Broken Things
by Marah Lane
Summary: An AU in which Theon takes Maester Luwin's advice to flee from Winterfell through its hidden tunnels. However, instead of going to the Wall, he risks his life for freedom and finds himself in Bravos, where eventually he stumbles upon Arya. Eventual Arya/Theon pairing.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** Hey everyone, if you're reading this, thanks for giving this story a chance. This will be my second story (and who knew I would be just as nervous putting this one up as I was my first one). My first story was Cast Your Soul to the Sea… and have promised a sequel to those who liked it…this story however is not that. I will have the first chapter of that story up next week. This story is just another one of my Arya/Theon whims. There will be a strange mixture of book and show in this, same as my first story, if things seem out of order and timing seems different, it's because it fits my narrative better. And please be aware that I've aged Arya up a few years. As a bit of a back ground, most of what happens to Arya prior to the opening will have been what happened to Arya in the show, with the exception of her training at the House of Black and White. That follows the book more.

 **Chapter 1**

The blind beggar girl sat quietly on the dirty, cobbled stones just outside the door to one of Bravosi dockside brothels. She leaned uncomfortably back against the rough wood of the building, staring sightlessly ahead. Every once in a while she would hear the dull thunk of metal clatter into her begging bowl. She would mumble a thank you as the person continued to walk on. Her position was good here. The proprietor of this particular brothel was kind to let her stay there as long as she didn't blatantly bother her customers. Drunken men who had recently been with a woman tended to be generous after their needs had been met. If they were especially happy, every once in awhile they would throw a bit of coin her way.

She had not always been blind, nor a beggar. Before her sight had been taken from her she had been many things, almost all of them had been a lie, all except one and now at times she even thought that Arya Stark was a lie too, and that she truly was no one. That suited her, that was her goal, it was better to be no one than Arya Stark any way. If she hadn't seen the man that had given her a sharp reminder of that stupid girl, Arya Stark, then perhaps she would still have her sight.

The girl supposed she deserved to have her sight taken from her. She had taken a life that had not been asked to be taken, even if Arya Stark had wanted the man dead. Even if Meryn Trant had killed the man who had taught Arya Stark how to water dance and justice called for his death. She shook her head lightly as if to wipe away an unwanted memory. Those thoughts were dangerous. Those were the thoughts of a girl who was named Arya Stark. She was not Arya Stark. She wore a different mask now. She was a blind girl. Arya Stark was dead, and she was buried within that blind girl. She should not even be thinking of Arya.

She should be focusing on begging for money, of worrying about her continued studies at the House of Black and White. She was still learning, even in her blind state. Her sense of smell and taste had sharpened, which was an advantage when she trained with the Waif in learning her poisons. Even if the study of such things was a bit dangerous without her eyes. Her physical training also continued, a man would attack her with a staff and she was expected to block the blows and eventually counter them. She supposed even the begging was part of the training, not just a punishment. Every so often she would be asked if she had over heard any new and interesting things, as she was expected to eavesdrop on those who passed her in the streets. It did not escape her notice that she escaped most everyone else's notice and that her hearing also improved with the lack of her sight. She had learned many things that she wouldn't have if others had noticed she was paying particular attention to them.

But this today everything was slow. There were no loiterers in the street that talked off handedly about news from around the city; and even less foreigners gossiping about what was happening in ports from Westeros or other more exotic harbors. The night was quiet, and she was bored and her ears heard nothing but the normal sounds of the city. Eventually her mind wandered.

She thought that perhaps she had fallen asleep and the largest evidence of that was that her vision had returned to her. She immediately recognized that it was not her normal vision, she was low to the ground. It was one of her dreams where she was an animal. Most night's she dreamed that she was a wolf, hunting and roaming the outdoors. This time as her feet padded across the stone floor, she recognized that she was inside and when she looked down she saw, not the paws of wolf, but rather feline ones instead. She looked up again and instantly knew she was in the brothel she was begging outside of.

It had been weeks since she had seen it, but she had sold shellfish there when her name had been Cat…and people called her Cat of the Canals. She saw the feet of patrons and whores alike. She looked up and even recognized some of the regulars. One of the women that worked there absentmindedly reached down and patted her head before she scolded her and told her to get out of the way. The woman had called her 'Mouser' and the girl blinked in surprise at the name. She remembered the brothel's owner had a cat by that name.

Such an odd thing, to dream oneself as a cat, her wolf dreams felt more natural. And it was odder still that she had once called herself Cat, a name that gave her a pang every time she thought of it. It reminded her of when she had been Arya, people had called the girl's mother by that name sometimes.

Her cat-self heeded the woman's advice and padded quietly over to a bench. She looked up, and noticed that if she hopped on the bench, she could jump on the table, then there was a series of shelves she could climb until she was on one of the long beams that ran below the vaulted the ceiling. It was a good place to perch and watch her surroundings. Her instincts proved to be good, because as soon as she made herself comfortable atop , two men, Westerosi from the sounds of them, sat below her, wearily. From what she had gathered they had just come into port and they sounded relieved. The winter storms had been harsh on the seas and they discussed the option of waiting out the winter in Bravos.

There was a quiver in her memory about winter, but she let it slide over her with no attention. The girl was becoming better at letting go of such distractions. And she had more important business of listening to the news these men brought with them.

Stannis Baratheon was in the North sitting at the Wall with an army of his own men and apparently as many sell swords with him. It was curious that he had the money to supply and recruit this army. The last she heard was that he had lost Storm's End and Dragon Stone. There was also unrest in King's Landing, something about two queens at odds. After awhile the information dwindled as the men became more interested in drink and eventually the women that had sauntered up to them.

The feline body she had dreamed herself in stood up and stretched luxuriously. She would have to find information else where now. Briefly, it dawned on her that she just dreamed this information up. Dreams would be useless at House of Black and White. She gracefully balanced on the beam, keeping ears and eyes open for anything that might prove interesting.

Suddenly an there was a clamoring of over turned cups, the loud laughing of two women, and she could just make out a masculine chuckle. Of course her cat eyes were drawn to the noise and just like that something dropped within her. From her perch, she could gaze steadily at the young man who chuckled, studying him intently, hoping she had made a mistake. Then the man smirked the smile of someone who should not be there. Then he let out a laugh, and she knew she had made no mistake.

Arya Stark had always heard that laughter in concert with her her older brothers, most often with Robb and on occasion Jon. She listened as the carefree voice of Theon Greyjoy cut through the din of the brothel talking to the women who sat at his table. And just like that her beggar persona shattered. She watched helplessly as the boy who had been a fixture in Arya Stark's childhood drunkenly paid off the whores he had used and the drink he had consumed. And for a moment, she even forgot that this was only a dream as a feeling of anger overcame her, the anger at seeing this man who had ultimately betrayed the Stark family. She had heard rumors both when she was in Westeros and she had heard even more when she was in Bravos about what Theon Greyjoy had done to Winterfell, to the Stark family, to _her_ family.

Arya Stark clawed her way to the to the forefront of the girl's mind. Arya Stark had not been buried within the blind girl, only hidden. In that instant she could never be no one. She was always Arya Stark, she should have realized that when she killed Meryn Trant. With that realization she gave a loud hiss of frustration.

With that hiss she seemed to wake from the dream. Her heart beating wildly and for a moment she was disoriented as she realized she once again could not see. She grabbed the staff she used as a cane and groped for the cup that held her daily earnings. Once she collected that, she used the staff to help push herself up from the ground. She shook her head as if to clear it. For a brief moment in that dream, she had remembered that she had once been Arya Stark, that she was in fact still Arya Stark. Reluctantly she realized that Arya still needed to be pushed back into her hiding place deep in the shadows of her soul. Arya Stark could not go back to the House of Black and White. She must remember that she was the blind beggar girl.

The dream had rattled her. She needed to calm herself, to center her thoughts. She was just about ready to go, when the door to the brothel opened and a drunken costumer had spilled out. Before she knew it, the person collided with her and the cup slipped form her grasp and the coins went clattering all over the place.

"Seven hells," muttered a voice.

Arya froze, it was the voice form her dream, and in that moment she realized she hadn't been dreaming. She shuddered to think what that meant. A distant memory of old Nan telling her and her siblings about wargs…skin changers and she shuddered again.

She heard Theon take a sharp intake of breath and for a moment she wondered wildly if he recognized her. Then she dismissed that thought. The homely beggar girl was a far cry from the little girl she had been when she last saw Theon Greyjoy. She kept her face carefully neutral, her eyes staring blankly in his general direction.

Theon cursed again. "You're blind." He said almost in wonder. "I am sorry."

Arya managed to offer him a shrug and then leaned down to grope again for her cup and money. She suddenly felt the urge to leave his presence. The anger that Arya Stark felt for this man threatened to erupt forth and that could be disastrous.

"Here let me help you." He said quickly. It seemed odd that this man was so intent on helping her. He had been an arrogant, callow youth, she remembered, and worse a traitor, a murderer even. " _He killed your younger brothers_ ," Arya's inner voice screamed. She could sense that he leaned down to help her and instantly she was struck by how near he was.

She could smell him. With her eyes gone, her nose worked wonders and his scent paralyzed her. It wasn't the stale smell of sex and alcohol that all men seemed to have when they exited brothels. That of course was on him too; but no it was his underlying scent that tore at the scabs of her heart. It was a scent that Arya had smelled as a child, whenever she had been allowed to tag along with Robb and Jon, and by extension Theon. It was an underlying scent that was uniquely him. Everyone had their own, and she would have thought that she had forgotten his, as a child she had never even paid attention to it. But with her eyes gone and her other senses heightened, it must have awakened something in her memory. He must have awakened her memory. The smell of him, triggered the flood of memories: the smell of the summer snows in the North, the smell of her father's solar, the kitchens when she had wanted to steal lemon cakes, the smell of her mother's perfume, and the smell of Winterfell's stables. It was as if he was the scent of home and her heart bleed.

It was not fair that this traitor could undo so much of what she had become and make Arya return. She knew without a doubt that Arya Stark would not go back in the little box of her psyche anymore. She would have to work on hiding herself from the man and the girl who awaited her back at the House of Black and White.

This terrified her. He, Theon Greyjoy, terrified her. The anger and hate that she had thought she had buried terrified her. She knew that if she had the means she would have killed him where he stood. Instead she turned and fled, leaving a confused young man behind her, holding her begging cup and the coins within it.

Arya would not realize that a small cat was following her until she reached the doors of the Temple to the Faceless God.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the long wait on this one. I had a chapter all written out and then my muse struck and I came up with a better way for the story to go. And I had to rewrite it. And I had to make it longer than I intended to kind of play catch up. So this is another chapter that's pretty much centered on Arya. I needed to have a few things happen to her before she's able to come face to face with Theon again. This is basically a set up chapter for the next few chapters. Thank you for all the reviews, favorites and follows. I hope I don't disappoint.

 **Chapter 2**

Arya felt sleep fall away fall way from her. The scent of fresh blood, meat, snow, and pine trees still lingered in her nostrils. She had awoken from one of her 'wolf' dreams again. She had them every night since she had seen through the eyes of the cat. She kept having to tell herself that what had happened to her was real. She had been the cat. She was still reeling from that revelation; and now whenever she had the wolf dreams she made sure to pay close attention to everything that happened in them. She memorized every sensation she felt.

When she dreamed it was cold and there was snow, but the cold did not seem to bother her. There were other wolves, so she knew she was part of a pack, a large one at that and the other wolves seemed to follow her lead. There were times that she would smell fire and she sometimes glimpsed the ruins of a town. It seemed the area where the wolves roamed was war torn. Even as she dreamed her mind whispered to her that it was Westeros she saw. She had always known that when she had these dreams that it was Nymeria she became. Her strange experience with the cat named Mouser made her wonder if this meant that Nymeria was still alive and even better, she thrived.

Along with this wonder that she felt at the possibility of Nymerya being alive, there was a vague sort of revulsion that simmered in the background of her mind. Old Nan's stories always portrayed that someone who could enter the mind of an animal was someone to revile, to fear. She shook her head of the thoughts, just as a gentle purr sounded in her ear.

She smiled at this and sat up slowly. Her sightless eyes turned to where she had heard the purr. Hesitantly, she reached her hand out to feel the soft fur of the cat. "Good morning, Mouser," she whispered. It was the only good thing that came from that ill-fated day outside the brothel. The cat had followed her and she had made a much needed friend. She had not realized how lonely she was until the cat came into her life.

Her hands ghosted over the soft fur between the cat's ears. The cat purred in gratitude. After a few moments she stilled her hand and bought it to her lap. The smile fell from her lips as she lost herself in concentration. This was a routine she had done every morning since _that_ night. Despite the fear she had, she tried reaching out to Mouser with her mind. To her frustration, she was never able to force the connection again. She brow furrowed as she let out a small sigh. It appeared that this morning would be no different.

"I wish I understood how this worked." She whispered quietly to the cat. "I think I reach Nymeria every night. Howcome I was able enter your mind that night? Was I supposed to see Theon Greyjoy, was I supposed to realize that I will forever be stupid Arya Stark?" She gave her head a shake.

It was best not to think of Theon. He unsettled her. He made her think of home and her younger brothers and how he took them away from her. He made her angry and he made her hate. He made it hard for her to pretend she wasn't Arya. She had accepted the fact that she would never be No One. She had been forced to realize that Arya was too strong to be hidden away forever. But she could pretend to become what Jaqen H'ghar wanted her to be, who the Waif thought she could never be. She had a lot of practice at pretending to be other people, she had pretended to be a boy named Arry who wanted to be a Brother of the Night's Watch. She had been Weasel the servant at Harrenhal. And sometimes in the service of the House of Black and White she was Cat of the Canels who sold shellfish and most recently a blind beggar girl. She could pretend to be No One. She would just have to work harder at hiding Arya from Jaqen and the Waif.

Reluctantly she stood up from the mat she slept on. "It is time to get ready for the day." She muttered quietly to the cat. The cat meowed in response and then started to groom itself as Arya felt around for a fresh robe. As she shed her night clothes and then put on the tattered rags of a beggar, she prepared herself to play the part. She erased all outward appearances of Arya, gone was the stubborn set of her jaw and the small crease of her brow that betrayed the anger she constantly felt. Now she wore the simple, resigned expression of a person who had nothing, not even her sight. She felt around for her staff. When she held it firmly in hand, she shuffled to the door.

"Ready for the day Mouser?" Arya felt for the latch, opened the door and felt the cat dart past her into the hall. Arya fought to keep back the smile she felt coming to her lips. The cat was gone. She never knew where the animal went during the day. Probably back to the brothel that had been her home. It did not matter to Arya, for she knew that Mouser would find her way back to her in the evening. Perhaps Mouser knew she should hide from anyone in the temple who wasn't Arya.

For Arya the day progressed much as any other day. She worked on mixing poisons and potions with the Waif in the morning and then went begging in the afternoons until dark. She didn't hear any particular interesting gossip as people passed by while she begged. They seemed only intent on their own boring lives. She had started to beg closer to the market square since the night she had run into Theon. People who weren't drunk on alcohol or sex were not as loose with their lips. But Arya could not take the risk of going back to her preferred begging spot at the brothel.

She was worried about encountering her past again. She was not sure what she would do if she encountered Theon Greyjoy again. She might very well try to kill him. She had never added him to the list of people she would like to see dead. But from the moment she saw him through the cats eyes, a rage had come over her and even now the mere thought of him was enough to make her heart pound in fury. He had killed her brothers it only seemed fitting that he should die too. He should have a place on that list of hers, but she dare not kill him. They had taken her sight for taking Ser Meryn Trant's life. What would they take from her if she let her rage get the better of her now? So she tried to push all thoughts of him away. If she didn't think about him, maybe he would just go away. If he left Bravos she she wouldn't have to worry about what she would or wouldn't do to him.

She still wasn't sure what she would tell Jaqen when he asked his questions about what she had learned while she was out and about Bravos. The time of the full moon was coming and every month that was the time she would have to report her findings. She had picked up the bits and pieces about what was happening in Westeros and she heard some rumors from Slavers Bay, but it was always unclear if it would be something he would want to know about. She wondered if knowing the heir to Pyke was hiding in Bravos would be important to him.

It probably would be, but she wasn't sure she wanted to share that information. It felt like it was something personal for Arya to deal with. She doubted Theon wanted anyone to know he was there. He was a craven and a turn cloak. A simple blind beggar girl would not have realized who the man she bumped into had been. At least with these thoughts it was easy for her to justify not telling anyone that Theon was there. She was pretending to be No One. No One wouldn't care about a disgraced Westerosi lord posing as a commoner in Bravos. No One wouldn't have to tell Jaqen anything about it. It gave Arya a little more time to think about what she was going to do about Theon Greyjoy.

—

After Arya had made her way back to the House of Black and White for the night and had a simple meal of stew and hard bread, she was asked to scrub down the floors in one of the many cells of the temple. It was an easy job for her to do, even while blind. If she didn't do a perfect job, her mistakes wouldn't be noticeable to anyone because of the dim light. It was dull work, and unfortunately it let allowed her mind to wander. But it was also a solitary job, so she would not have to work hard on keeping up the pretense of being No One. There were some times when the monotony of such a chore would be interrupted by the strange man who came in to test her skill and reflexes with the staff, but she doubted he would come. She had practiced with him last night and she was still nursing a few bruises from that encounter.

She shuffled slowly to her destination, impeded by a large bucket of water in one hand, her staff in the other and a rag was draped over her arm. She let out a small sigh when she reached the room. She would not pretend to enjoy doing this work, but she would not complain either. She knelt down and soon lost herself in the mundane job of washing the stone floor.

She didn't know how long she had been doing her task when she heard a soft mew off to her right. "Mouser?" She whispered, and as soon as the name left her lips the cat gingerly made her way to Arya and rubbed against her arm. Arya felt herself smile despite the risk of the cat being out in the open. "You're home early." Mouser only gave a soft purr in response. Arya's heart lightened a little, now she would not have to finish her chore alone. "I'm glad you're here, but you should hide, just while I finish this up. We don't want anyone to find you, we don't know what they might do to you." Mouser gave Arya one last gentle nudge with her head and bounded off to the corner shadows of the room.

Her heart a little lighter, Arya went back to work. Her mind drifted off, sometimes she would find herself thinking about the home that she had lost, about the man who had taken Winterfell from her family and how she would exact revenge on him or even if she would. More often then not her thoughts would go back to the cat who was not far away, and the small relief she had brought into her life over these past few days. Other thoughts flitted back and forth in her mind, she never dwelled on one thought for too long and before she knew it, her thoughts drifted right into the cat.

At first she was shocked, she could see. The cat had been looking at her when she had overtaken the feline body. It was a bit of a shock seeing herself motionless on the floor. She was lying down as if asleep, she must have just fallen over when her mind left her body. It was a very curious thing, to look at oneself, especially when she so different from how she remembered herself. It was not the Arya from Winterfell that she was looking at. Her hair had grown, from when she had to cut it to look like a boy traveling with recruits of the Night's Watch. She was older now, but the face was different. She wore fake scars and her brow was smudged with dirt, all in an effort to look more like a beggar.

She was still staring at herself when she heard the muffled footfalls of someone entering the room. Her cat's eyes went directly to the figure who stood at the door. The face in the dim candle light was easy to recognize. It was Jaqen, and he held a staff. Suddenly she figured out the puzzle. She knew who came to fight with her. Without much effort she was able to pull her mind away from the cat, almost as if her soul knew which body it belonged to.

The moment she came back to her body, she reached for her staff which was only a few inches from her left hand. With a firm grip she hefted it into the air, she was just able to block Jaqen's first blow. He said nothing, he always said nothing while they fought. But from the way he fought she knew it had always been him who tested her fighting skills since she had been blind.

She wondered if he always wore the same face. She wondered if it was even Jaqen, or if that was even his name. It was always a lingering thought in her mind. She had seen him change his face after they escaped Harrenhal. And the old man who had first greeted her when she arrived at the Temple changed his face into the familiar Jaqen. She knew how easy it was for these people to change faces. She supposed anyone could be wearing the face she knew as Jaqen. They might think that since that face was known to her she would be at ease. Now while she batted away another blow he sent her way, she found it disconcerting. Perhaps it really wasn't Jaqen, what if it was the Waif or even a different Faceless Man.

As her mind wandered from defense, Jaqen hit her on the arm, and she was unable to block it. She cried out, frustrated. She knew she would have a another bruise. Now that her frustration had set in, she forgot to listen the rustle of his robs, the sound of the staff gliding through the air was lost to her. She blindly struck out with her staff, hoping to get lucky and catch him unawares, she should have known it was fruitless. Another blow came from the opposite direction of what she expected. He was behind her now, and he brought the staff down on her shoulder hard, not enough to break it, but it gave her enough pain that she dropped her staff. And just like that the fight was over. He said nothing as he glided from the room.

She dropped to the floor, tears of pain stung her eyes. She was frustrated, she had been getting better at fighting blindly, or at least she thought she had. She failed miserably tonight. She let the pain in her arm waste away to a dull throb, and then continued washing the floor. When she was done with the task, she made her way back to the privacy of her own chamber. The cat following closely behind.

However when they reached her door, the cat must have sensed something, because she darted away. Arya frowned, wondering what had spooked the animal and knew she must be cautious. She felt her way to the latch of the door and opened it carefully, her staff at the ready, wondering if Jaqen would choose to fight her again.

When she stepped into the room, she knew someone was there. They were not trying to stay hidden from her senses and no attack came.

Instead Jaqen's voice softly said, "and who is a girl today?"

"No One." She answered automatically. He always greeted her that way.

"Perhaps." He said in a tone that said he still did not believe her. "And what has a girl learned these last few weeks?"

So, she had been right, the full moon had been close. She told him of the current political climate in Westeros and of the rumors she had heard about the Iron Bank getting involved in the affairs across the Narrow Sea by loaning money to Stannis Barotheon. She had heard that several days ago from the mouth of a known smuggler. She supposed that was how Stannis got the money to afford his army in the North. She offered some information about a Bravosi merchant. Jaqen seemed to find both pieces of information, not of great interest, but satisfactory. She was still unsure of what to tell him last. Did she dare mention to him that Theon of House Greyjoy had found his way to Bravos?

Arya opened her mouth still not sure. And without hesitation she simply said. "I know that the person who spars with me every so often wears Jaqen H'gar's face."

There was a moment of silence . Arya wished she had her eyes back so that she could see his reaction.

Finally in a neutral tone, Jaqen said, "A girl is correct."

That was all he said, and she heard him step softly out of the room. Her heart was thudding and she wanted to yell after him to ask what it meant and what would happen to her.

—

The next morning Arya awoke to someone standing inside her chamber. Arya sensed that the cat was no where near her and realized that Mouser had hidden herself away when she heard someone outside the door. Arya was thankful that the cat was so smart. Just as she was thinking this she heard an impatient sigh from her guest, and Arya instantly knew who it was. She was correct in assuming that the person standing there would not have been happy to see Mouser. Not because the person disliked cats so much, but because the person simply didn't like Arya.

It was the Waif who was in her room. Arya knew the girl was trying to be silent as she moved about the room, but Arya could track her, even without her sight. The Waif wasn't nearly as good as she thought she was and that gave Arya some satisfaction.

"What are you doing here this morning?" Arya asked sitting up quickly from her mat and reaching for her staff. She wondered vaguely if she would be attacked, if this was some sort of test. She heard the sharp intake of the Waif's breath.

At first there was no other reply, the girl just knelt down next to her. Finally with one hand theWaif picked up Arya's hand and with her other hand, she placed a wooden cup in it. "Here, drink this."

"What is it?" Arya asked with distrust, the last time the girl had given her something to drink it was a poison that made her blind.

"Just drink it." Snapped the Waif.

Not wanting to seem a craven Arya carefully brought the cup to her lips. Before she took a sip, she sniffed slightly, there was no oder. Then she took a tentative sip. It tasted cloyingly sweet, but that sweetness hid something bitter that came through in the aftertaste. She nearly gagged on it. "What is this?" She asked after she coughed lightly.

Before the Waif could answer, the black, she had been so used to seeing these past few weeks, started fading into a gray. With a startling jerk of her body, she realized she was getting her sight back. She blinked rapidly, things were slowly coming into focus for her. Thankfully her first sight was not the Waif, it was a candle that the girl must have lit when she came into Arya's chamber. The soft glow of the candle hurt her eyes, and she could not look directly at it for long. She would dart her eyes away down to the floor, but always they darted back up to the flame. She relished the pain it caused, because the sight to her was beautiful. She could see again.

The Waif didn't seem to want to give her time to acclimate to regaining her sight. "You passed a test." She said tersely, pulling Arya attention away from the candle. Arya now had to focus on the much less welcome sight of the Waif. "Who are you?" The Waif asked harshly.

"No One," Arya said with what she hoped sounded like conviction.

It did not, because the Waif gave her a look of disgust. "And still you lie."

"Leave us." A voice rang out, and the command was clearly meant for the Waif. Jaqen must have seen and heard the whole interaction. Arya noted that she could not tell that he been there, even when she had regained her sight. He was much better at keeping himself unnoticed than the Waif.

The Waif gave Arya one last disgruntled look and turned toward the door. She brushed pass Jaqen just as Arya brought herself up to a standing position. Her eyes were still adjusting to the fact that she could see again. But she was certain that the Waif had given Jaqen a frustrated frown.

When they were alone Jaqen spoke first. "We think you are ready."

"Ready for what?" Arya asked cautiously.

"It is time for you to take a name."

Arya blinked at that. She was not expecting this. Her revelation last night must have done much to improve Jaqen's impression of her. Instead of asking the normal questions, about who she was to kill, how she was to do it, where it was to be done and so on, she chose to remain quiet. If she showed patience, Jaqen would explain, she had a feeling it would not be wise to prove herself too eager.

There was a subtle smile that came to the man's lips, he approved of her reticence. "A girl will take on the mantle of Cat of the Canals again. She will go about selling her shell fish same as always in the mornings. She will continue to watch and listen to those around her. In the afternoon's she will go to where Izemaro's theater troupe performs their plays. She will watch and listen, especially to a certain actor by the name of Lady Crane. She will acquaint herself with the woman's routine. And she will plan accordingly."

"This Lady Crane is the name that I must take for the god?" Arya asked quietly.

Jaqen answered with a nod of the head.

"Does this have to be done by a certain time?" Arya asked, her heart beating quickly. This was different then how she thought it would be. This wasn't a life she was taking in the heat of the moment, or to protect herself and her friends, nor was she killing out of revenge. This would be impersonal. It felt, strange. She wasn't sure how to describe the pit in her stomach.

"A girl can take her time to plan, to be careful. It does not matter to the God of Death when he get's this name, as long as it it done, he will remain appeased." Jaqen answered.

She nodded her head to show that she understood. She managed to keep her face neutral. She was pretending to be No One. No One wouldn't care who she killed as long as it was in service to the god.

"A girl should ready herself for the day. A girl must take a day to get used to her eyes once more, but Cat of the Canals needs to be on the docks early on the morrow if she is to be successful." Jaqen said and then quietly slipped out of the room.

—

It was frighteningly easy to get used to sight again, at least in the shadowy corridors of the temple. The candle light was not harsh and she was able to acclimate to the glare bit by bit. She stayed inside most of the morning, and by afternoon she braved the harsh sunlight outdoors. She didn't wander far from the temple doors and she must have kept her hands over her eyes for at least thirty minutes before she lowered them. She squinted most of the afternoon and by the time she went back inside she had a headache. But she could see, a headache seemed such a minor thing in comparison.

Fitting back into her life as Cat of the Canals was even easier. Her absence had been noticed by many of Cat's normal customers and they were happy to see her back. She had invented a lie of her being sick, but now she was fine and none the worse of ware. It seemed they bought extra from her, just to make up for lost time, and the smile she wore came easy to her lips. She still made a point not to go to the brothel where she had run into Theon. She did not want to take the chance that she might see him with her own eyes, not to mention that Cat of the Canals could look very much like Arya Stark if the wrong person was to catch a glimpse of her. She could not run the risk of him recognizing her.

Afternoons were much easier for her. It was easy to find Lady Crane. The play the woman was in was quite a popular one. Arya was still not certain how she felt about it. The characters had been ripped from Arya's life. She had known and hated most of them. The setting was in Westeros under the backdrop of the War of the Five Kings. Lady Crane herself played Cersei, it hit a chord with her more morbid sense of humor that she would in a way be killing the Queen who was on her list of people she wanted dead. She had to bite her lip to keep from laughing when Joffery had been poisoned on stage. Her heart ached a little when the actress who played Sansa came on stage. The story range false to her though. While she was certain Tyrion Lannister might have played a part in the death of his nephew and father, she doubted naive, gentle Sansa would do anything to help murder anyone.

In fact the whole play seemed to be a little melodramatic. Arya doubted that Queen Cersei would be a blubbering mess after she had witnessed the death of Jofferey. She would have been sad, yes, but her first reaction would have been anger, she would have wanted revenge. Arya was smart enough to realize that this was an issue with the writing, not the acting. Lady Crane was quite the actress, Arya could recognize the talent. She was the best actor of the troupe it seemed. Over the next few performances, she studied the other actors, and realized that there was one person in particular who seemed quite preoccupied with Lady Crane. The girl who played Sansa kept a close eye on the women, when she thought she wasn't being observed. And Arya could tell it wasn't awe in the girl's eyes. It was jealousy. She wanted what Lady Crane had, talent and fame. Arya put that in the back of her mind, perhaps she was the one who wanted the actress dead.

Some days she wouldn't watch the play. She would sneak into the back stage area. It was surprised at how easy was to slip in. She would simply pose herself as a washer maid and no one asked any questions. She pretended to do odd chores and remained in the background listening to what happened after performances. She would hear grumbles about lack of respect, at poor script, and it would go on and on. She noticed that Lady Crane was the only one to drink rum. She had her own bottle of it that no one else drank from. She supposed it would be easy enough to slip a poison in that. Arya would have to give that some thought.

Arya's life went on like that for several days. She would sell her shellfish and then study the entire acting troupe and watch the play. It was a fairly simple life. She wasn't nervous about the job that she was to do. She was in fact, sort of numb about the whole thing. She had decided the easy way to go about taking Lady Crane's life was the rum. She was comfortable around poison, and it would not be a bloody end. She had no hate in her heart for this women, it was simply a job to her. She did not want to make this woman suffer. She could be sure the poison was painless at the very least. Now all that remained was for her to go through with it. But for some reason she was hesitant.

On one particular morning, her mind had been on Lady Crane as she walked along the streets near the docks. Arya had just decided that in two days time she would poison the actress when she realized that she was walking past that damned brothel where she had seen Theon. At first she was a bit alarmed.

She forced herself to calm down, it was early in the day and the chances of him being there were slim. Nor was she certain that he was a regular at the place, for all she knew he was long gone from Bravos. Besides, it wasn't as if she would go in, if she just hurried up she could slip by the door without being noticed. She quickened her step, awkwardly pushing her cart before her.

She was well past the door and thought she had managed to leave the area unnoticed when a woman called from the door of the brothel "Cat, is that you?"

Arya closed her eyes, frustrated that she had been seen. She forced herself to put on a bright smile and turn around. "Aye, it's me Sage." She recognized the prostitute who had called to her.

"Well, come on then, I'm sure the Mistress would like to buy a few things from you. It's been so long since we saw you. Where have you been?" Sage answered Arya's smile with her own and her eyes portrayed a warmth there that Arya had found surprising. It seemed Cat had made an impression on the women who worked at the establishment.

Clumsily, Arya turned her cart around and hesitantly made her way back to the door. _He would not be there, it's perfectly safe to go inside._ At least that was what she kept telling herself. To Sage she simply said, "I was sick. Didn't meant to make anyone worry."

"It's good to see that you're better." Sage said as she watched Arya put together a wooden tray of her best clams to carry inside the brothel.

Arya noticed an old apple seller that had set up shop next to the brothel and offered the woman a bit of coin to watch Arya's cart. Then reluctantly, Arya followed Sage inside. It was darker then outside so it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim light.

"Mistress!" Sage hollered to the woman who owned the establishment. "Look who I found outside. Wasn't it just yesterday you were saying how her shellfish was the freshest. Cat's made her way back to us."

The older woman looked up from what she was doing at a table at the far end of the room. "Cat! Welcome back, come on over, let me see what you have. We've missed you around here."

Arya quickly made her way over to Mistress and somehow managed to keep her smile in place. The faster she was out of here, the safer she would feel. "Sorry about that. I'm back now. I think you'll be happy with what I have to sell." She waited patiently and tried to keep up with the small talk as the woman looked over the clams. It was only ten minutes but it felt like hours before the woman decided on what she wanted to purchase. And it was another five before they agreed on the price.

Arya's smile was genuine once she realized she would be able to leave swiftly. She turned away from the Mistress and quickly headed for the door. She was halfway to freedom and was about to let out a sigh of relief when a solid body stepped into her path. She came up short, her wooden tray in front of her had just barely missed a collision. For a moment she just stared at the chest of the person who stood before her, finally she willed herself to look up.

When she did, she found herself looking into the Theon Greyjoy's dark eyes, she saw the shock in them and she heard his sharp intake of breath. He had recognized her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** As promised, I got this chapter up much faster than the last. It helped that I had half of it written already. And I had a bit of a difficulty loading this up. So sorry if you get two updates for this one chapter. Again thank you for all the reviews, favorites, and follows. All the activity means a lot to me. And to WeylandCorp4….Theon's first word is dedicated to you. I decided to go with your suggestion.

 **Chapter 3**

"Fuck." That was the only word Theon Greyjoy managed to say after he saw what could only be described as a ghost. For a moment it seemed as if time had stopped. Theon just stared at the little slip of a girl before him. _Arya Stark_ , his mind whispered to him. _But Arya Stark was a child._ And when he looked closer he knew that this was no child, this was a young woman that stood before him. _This couldn't be Arya Stark. Arya Stark must be dead._ _This is a ghost I'm staring at,_ he thought to himself. A ghost with grey eyes that matched Lord Eddard Stark's eyes. He wondered if she knew what he had done to her family.

He managed to keep from visibly shuddering in fear and shame. Was she really here? Or had he now started seeing things. Had the gods finally decided to punish him? _Why would the gods send Arya Stark to haunt you?_ the rational part of his mind asked. _Bran or Rickon would have been a better choice. If the gods truly wanted to punish you, Robb would be standing before you._ He realized that the rational part of his mind was right.

The two of them were just standing there, staring at each other. He thought maybe they were both in shock, but studied her closer he knew it wasn't shock that kept her from saying anything. There was anger in those eyes, there was hate. She knew of his sins. He could not blame her for hating him, in fact he lived in the perpetual state of hating himself for what he had done to her family. One of them needed to say something first, he supposed it would have to be him. "Ar-"

He had only gotten the first syllable of her name out when the sound of his voice seemed to break the spell that held her so still. He watched fascinated as her expression suddenly went blank. He could not explain why, but he felt a stab of apprehension as her eyes seemed to go dead. It was as if she transformed herself right before his eyes. If he hadn't seen her seconds before he might have second guessed his assessment that she was one of the lost Stark girls. He was about to try to talk to her again when her mouth formed a smile. A smile that would have looked out of place on the unruly, wild child who had haunted Winterfell in his youth.

"I'm sorry about that!" Her voice was just as cheery as her smile. "I almost ran into you. My mum always said I should watch where I'm going. Sometimes I'm just so eager to get on with myself, I just don't think."

Her accent was Westerosi. She tried hard to hide the noble lilt of her speech, but he could tell it was just there, under the surface. Of course he would recognize the flaws, he himself tried to hide his way of speech. He couldn't help but let a small smirk twist his lips. She could try to pretend, but he saw through her. "It's alright." He made a move to take the tray she carried. "Here, let me help you." He needed to talk to her. He needed to make sure that he wasn't just jumping to hasty conclusions about her identity. And he knew he needed to do it away from where people might hear them talk.

Arya jerked away from him, and he stopped short. There was that brief flash of that hate in her eyes before she was able to get her emotions back under control. She was determined to keep up this charade of being a Bravosi commoner. He dropped his hands. Of course she wouldn't want to talk to him, he didn't blame her. But he desperately needed to talk to her. She might be the last one, the last Stark.

"Don't worry, I can handle this," her tone was curt. She held up her tray a little higher. "It's not too heavy. Again I'm sorry." She offered another smile, this time he could tell it was a bit forced. "Well, must be off now." Before he could say anything to her, she stepped quickly towards the door.

"Wai…" He called after her and had every intention of going after her.

"Young man," the Misteress of the brothel called out. "Before you leave, there is the matter of payment."

That stopped Theon in his tracks. He knew he couldn't walk out with paying. Reluctantly, he turned to the woman and woodenly made his way toward the table she sat at. He hadn't even used the woman he would be paying for. Most nights it wasn't sex he was looking for. He did indulge sometimes, but mostly he was simply looking for companionship. Most nights he just needed someone to talk to, someone to keep the dark at bay. Sleep was hard to come by, he kept seeing those small burnt bodies of the little boys he had killed. He had heard the screams of the Ironborn men who had been under his command when he took Winterfell and then failed to keep it. He hadn't really heard them, because he had fled Winterfell before the Northmen retook the castle. He had left them there to die. But he still imagined what their screams must have sounded like when they were butchered. He knew he was everything everyone had called him. He was a craven and a traitor.

 _But if that was Arya…_ His thoughts trailed off. What if it was Arya? What did it matter, did he expect some kind of redemption? Did he seek her forgiveness? What could she do for him, even if she was willing _to_ do anything for him? He didn't know, but something deep inside him was telling him to follow the girl, to talk to her. It never occurred to him that it might be because she was the one link to a life that could have been. A life among the Stark family that could have offered him so much more than the one Balon Greyjoy had offered him. A life that he has been too blind, too proud, and too stupid to hold on to.

"You look like you've seen a ghost." The Mistress stated.

Theon shook his head to clear away thoughts of the past. "Who was that girl?"

In a disinterested voice the woman said, "Oh that was just Cat."

"Did you say Cat?" He asked quietly.

"Oh yes, I haven't seen her in a bit, I've heard she's been sick, but she usually comes around here regularly selling her wears." The conversation seemed to bore the woman, she was only interested in what she was owed, and she held her hand out accordingly.

Theon ignored the hand and stared at the door that led outside thoughtfully. The name Cat proved to him that she really was Arya. "How long ago did she start coming here?"

Mistress let out an exasperated sigh. "A few months ago I think. I don't keep too close an eye on the comings and goings of street vendors."

Distractedly, he fumbled with his coin pouch to pull out enough silver to pay for ale he had drunk the night before, the room he slept in, and the girl he didn't bed. He threw them down on the table and then turned to the door. He cursed silently, she was probably long gone. Bravos was a crowded city, one small girl could easily lose herself if she wanted to.

"I'm sure you can find her." Mistress assured him, now appeased that she had been paid. "She wheels a cart around during the mornings. It slows her down a bit and I'm sure she's on her way to the market square, by now. If you hurry I'm sure you can catch up."

"Thanks," he managed to mutter as he rushed to the door, then stepped into the bright sunlight. He looked down the cobbled street that led towards the market. He couldn't find her. He cursed himself for not paying closer attention to what she wore. His attention had been focused on her face, on those intense grey eyes that had been so like her fathers. Looking for her in a crowd was difficult, she was still so tiny, even for how old she was. Seven hells she had to be at least seventeen by now. He shook his head, he would think about the time that had past since he had last seen her later. For now, it was enough to just find her.

He started to walk briskly in the direction of the market. His eyes darted from face to face. It was probably fifteen minutes later when he saw her. He stopped walking and studied her for a moment. She wore the smile he had flashed at him in the brothel. She was talking to a woman and it seemed they were negotiating a price for some of the shellfish. He watched as she concluded the sale and then started to make her way up the road, stopping every once in a while to talk with customers or people it looked like she knew. He was fairly certain she would take this street all the way to market square. He knew there would be alleys and back streets that branched off this street. And just like that a plan started to form in his mind.

—

After she left the brothel, Arya forced herself to walk slowly down the busy street. Arya forced herself to stop and sell her fish and chat idly with her customers. Arya forced herself not to look back to see if Theon was following her. Maybe if she pretended hard enough not to be Arya for just this afternoon, she could convince herself that Theon Greyjoy really hadn't recognized her. It was a thin hope she knew, but maybe he would just leave her alone. If he wanted to talk to her he could have just followed her. She took solace in the fact that he hadn't.

She was nearing the market and at this time of morning this particular area was less crowded. She needed a moment alone to catch her breath and compose herself before she faced the mob in the market. She closed her eyes unaware that she was being watched. The next thing that happened to her was so sudden, it didn't occur to cry out when she was grabbed by the wrist and yanked away from her cart By the time he thought to yell for help, her assailant's other hand had covered her mouth. Her mind raced for a way out of the situation. She was not helpless, she had a small knife hidden in her sleeve. It would not kill, but it could wound. She was small, but she knew how to use her stature to her advantage.

Her attacker was definitely male. That was the only thing about this situation that registered with her. For a moment all she could do was panic as he held her tightly against his body and forced her into a shadowy alleyway. She wondered briefly if he thought she was an easy mark for rape. The thought seemed to calm her, she almost laughed at the thought of someone trying to do that to her. She would geld him if he dared try, and just like that she was ready to go on the offensive. First she had to figure out how to get herself out of his hold. She noticed as he led them further into the alley his grip on her became surprisingly gentle. He held her firmly, but she could tell he was allowing her a little freedom. So she tried to push herself away from him, if only to test his resolve on keeping her. Instantly his grip tightened, that only made her increase her struggle to free herself.

Finally, his voice hissed in her ear. "Seven Hells, Arya, settle down. It's me." The moment his breath brushed against her ear her body went rigid.

Theon Grejoy. Of course it was him, she had been stupid to think he would just let her walk away.

He seemed to realize that she had given up her struggle. He took this as her acceptance of the situation and he loosened his hold. He took away the hand that covered her mouth, hoping that she wouldn't call out. He realized this might not have been the best way to approach her, it only now dawned on him that she might see him as an attacker. He let his other hand drop to his side as well.

There was nothing to keep her from pulling away now and she was just about to dart away from him. Something inside her mind was telling her to make a run for it. He must have sensed her thoughts because one of his hands reached out and grabbed her arm. He hastily forced her to turn around so he could look at her.

This time Arya held his gaze. They stayed there for several seconds, just staring at each other. Both of them painfully remembering a past that had been lost to them.

Arya was the one who spoke, she needed to get away from him. Maybe she could make him believe she wasn't really Arya, maybe she could make him believe she only looked like her. She needed desperately to be Cat right now. She wasn't ready to deal with him. "I'm sorry I think you are mistaking me for someone else." She made her voice a whisper. She thought that perhaps Cat of the Canals might be a little off balance at being accosted by a foreign stranger.

He smiled, that arrogant smile that she remembered from her childhood. "I saw you grow up. I know who you are. You cannot hide the Stark in you." He raised his hand and pulled on a loose strand of her brown hair.

Angrily she batted his hand away. He had no right to touch her in such a familiar way. "I do not know you." She persisted. _At least I don't want to know you._ She said to herself. _You killed my brothers and burned my home. You deserve to die._ And suddenly it was clear to her, why she wasn't ready for this confrontation. She wasn't ready to kill him, because as much as she hated him, he was still a part of who she had been before her father had died. He had always been a part of her childhood. Arya shook her head. "I'm just Cat."

Theon just chuckled . "Cat of the Canals. I know that's the name you've given yourself here. Didn't Lady Catelyn go by Cat sometimes? If you wanted to hide yourself from people who knew your true identity, you should have chosen a better name."

The jest seemed to wound her. Mostly because it was true. Why had she not seen it before? She chose to call herself after her mother. Even when she was trying to make Arya Stark disappear, there was always something of that girl holding on, not wanting to be forgotten.

She would never convince him that she wasn't Arya, it had been foolish for her to even try. His arrogant chuckle seemed to kill whatever remorse she would have for killing him. Maybe she was ready. Without thinking she grabbed his cloak with one hand, and pulled him down so that his face was on level with her own. In her other hand she held the small blade that she had kept tucked up her sleeve. Her face was a mask of anger and pain. "You killed my family and burned my home you son of a whore." She seethed at him in a low, cold voice. "Tell me why I shouldn't do the same to you."

It was Theon's turn to go stiff. Of course the words effected him, how could they not, he reminded himself almost every hour, of every day of the mistakes he made. He expected no less of an accusation from the wild, little girl he remembered from Winterfell. But there was something in her eyes that said she really was capable of killing him. It was then he felt something press against the groin area of his pants. He suspected that she held a small knife to him, his eyes darted down, but they were so close to each other he couldn't see what she held.

Arya noticed where his attentions were, because a maniacal grin spread across her face. "Oh yes, I believe I hold all power right now." She knew how much he enjoyed the use of this particular appendage. The grin suddenly disappeared to that cold, hard look as she moved the knife point more firmly against him, not enough to hurt him, but enough to make him realize that it was not just a threat. "Now, give me a reason why I shouldn't castrate you."

For one long moment, he said nothing. He knew he was at her mercy. Even if he was fast enough to reach for his own blade, he knew he would never use it against her. She had every right to demand justice for what he did. It was because of him, that Winterfell lay in ruins. Robb had trusted him and he had betrayed the man who was like a brother to him. She should kill him. He would not fight back. But first he needed her forgiveness, she could at least give him that.

Finally his whispered. "I did not kill Bran or Rickon." It was the only thing he could think of that might stay her hand. "They could still be alive."

Her jaw stiffened and her lips formed a straight line as she looked at him. She was looking for any sign of a lie. She couldn't see a hint of dishonesty, but that meant nothing. Theon was good at lies, every smile, every act of camaraderie he had with Robb, everything was all a lie. "Then whose bodies were found at Winterfell when your men burned and sacked it."

He had taken Winterfell, he had loved Winterfell he wanted it to be his home, but he had never burned it. He would have to explain that later, right now he had make her realize that her brothers might not be dead. "They ran away from Winterfell, they had help." He spoke fast hoping he made sense. "I looked for them. They were more valuable to me alive then dead. I wouldn't have…I couldn't have killed them. I don't expect you to believe that…"

"You're right." She sneered.

"It's true. If you give me a chance to explain..." He rushed.

Her eyes narrowed as she studied him. "Continue."

He wasn't certain how to tell her that he killed two innocent boys to take the place of her brothers. He doubted she would forgive him for that, he had a hard time living with himself for doing it. But she wouldn't be under the illusion that he killed anyone in her family.

"Theon." She all but growled, warning him of her impatience.

"They were farmers whelps. I killed two children to hide the fact that I had lost your brothers." He said, and it was the first time he allowed his shame to show upon his features. "I was losing my grip on the situation. I knew if I lost them, I would lose Winterfell, I needed the small folk and the rest of the North to know that I wasn't to be trifled with. That the Greyjoys were not to be trifled with."

There was a faint flicker of hope in Arya's heart, that Bran and Rickon were still alive. But then his words sunk in. He had taken innocent life. She felt her muscles tense in anger, but then without warning her own memories flooded her thoughts. Faces of the innocents she killed swam through her mind, the chubby stable boy she had killed to escape the Red Keep. He had only been doing what he was told to do if he saw her. There was the pimply boy in the Cross Roads Inn when she had been traveling with the Hound. He had only been trying to bed a girl. He had merely been in the wrong place at the wrong time when his companions picked a fight with the Hound. He was innocent too. What of the innocents the Faceless Men would send her to kill? Was she so different?

He saw the tension in her face relax. He saw that her gaze seemed unfocused, and Theon couldn't help but wonder if he had succeeded in staying her hand, at least for the moment. "I didn't burn Winterfell either." He said carefully. "Nor did my men." _No_ , he thought bitterly but dared not speak, _but I left them behind to die because I am a coward._

He saw her eyes come back into focus when he said the words. He saw them narrow in disbelief. He quickly moved on. "We were about to be attacked. Robb, he sent men to take back his home. We were surrounded, there was no way out. Maester Luwin convinced me to run, to save myself. He said he could broker a peace, that he would work to save my men's lives. He knew my life would be forfeit. He showed me the tunnels that would allow me to escape. I don't know what happened after that. When I reached White Harbor, there were rumors that I had burned Winterfell. From what I could find out, Bolton's bastard son had been sent to take Winterfell and well, you know the Boltons betrayed Robb. I think the bastard was probably the one to burn it and blamed me. After all I wasn't there to deny it. I can only imagine what they did to Luwin and the rest of the servants at Winterfell. Or what they did to my men." He added quietly. "I've heard the rumors that I had died in Winterfell's liberation. They know I cannot come out of hiding, even if I was alive, too many people want me dead."

Arya just gazed a him, her eyes still judging.

In that moment it came to him. A way for his redemption, a way to get rid of his guilt, a way to stop the hurt. "We could go back, we could go to Lord Manderly. He was always loyal to your father. I could tell everyone that Bran and Rickon might still be alive, even if it meant my death. The North would demand that Winterfell be returned to the Starks. The crown would have to appease them. You could go home too, Arya."

This seemed to make her laugh. "No. I am not stupid, I have nothing there. You don't know for certain if Bran and Rickon are alive and Winterfell is a pile of rubble." She lowered her hands, and stepped away from him. She saw his pain, and she understood it, she felt the same. She could see in his eyes that it hurt him more to live, and she would not end his pain by killing him. He needed to feel the guilt for what he did to her family.

Theon saw that he was losing her. "Arya."

"Arya Stark is dead." She lied. "I am Cat now. Bravos is my home. Winterfell means nothing to me. You offer me nothing."

"No but you could offer me something Arya." The words were out of his mouth. He hated that he had been reduced to begging. "I need…" He stopped himself, not daring to admit that he needed her forgiveness.

She gave him a wry look. "I don't owe anything." Her tone was nothing but contempt and he knew she was right.

"Please," he whispered.

She took another step away from him and cast a glance to the mouth of the ally where her cart still stood. Arya knew now that she could be done with him. He would suffer in his guilt, perhaps that was better than death. She turned to him with a bright smile that only Cat of the Canals would wear, and he he knew he had lost her and his heart sunk lower in her chest. "I'm sorry I can't help you. I'm sure you'll find what your looking for eventually." And with that she walked away.

"Arya!" He called after her desperately.

But she did not turn around, and he only called her name once.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** Well sorry about the delay. It was not intentional. The first week I was sick and then the chapter got a bit away from me. It got longer than I intended. I wanted to much to happen in it and I didn't want to cut it down. So thanks for the patience. Fair warning, it will probably be a bit longer for the next update as I'm going on vacation the next week and doubt I'll have any time to write. I hope t his extra long chapter might make up for that a little bit. I am sorry in advance about the next delay.

 **Chapter 4**

It was nearly sun rise on the day after Arya had the confrontation with Theon Greyjoy. There had been little sleep during the night for her, and a twisted, sickened feeling in her stomach. She had turned away from someone who had once been almost like a brother to her, a someone, who when given the chance had betrayed her family. But the worst part was, that for Arya, he was the only living memory of her past life.

"That's not true," she whispered to herself. "There was Bran and Rickon, you could go find them." She shook her head of the thought. She believed Theon, when he said that the last he knew her brothers were alive. However that did not mean that they were _still_ alive. The North could be harsh, and Bran was a cripple. Rickon was still so young. Would they survive the winter out there, alone?

 _They had help,_ Theon had said. But who could have helped them? Did the help they have know how to survive? She cursed herself for a fool. She should have asked the turn cloak for more information. Why had she been so damn intent on running away from him. _Because he saw who you were, and you couldn't pretend to be No One. What if he told others that Arya Stark was in Braavos. "_ It was right to run away _."_ She had whispered to herself.

These thoughts had spent the night running circles around inside her head. Even after hours of reassuring herself that it had been right to turn away from Theon, it still felt like she was excusing herself, from something. She just wasn't sure what. She had run away from Westeros because she thought that nothing remained to her. Then Theon had come and given her just a sliver of hope that her younger brothers might still live.

Then, suddenly it came into focus for her. It was that hope that caused her to flee from him, not the fact that she despised him for what he had done to her family. No, she fled because he had offered her hope. She had learned early on that every time someone gave her even a small thread of hope, it was snatched away from her. When the Night's Watch recruiter, Yoren, had offered her safe passage to Winterfell, he had been attacked and killed by Amory Lorch or his men. When she had revealed herself to Harwin who had been a part of the Brotherhood Without Banners and once a loyal servant of her fathers she had thought she had found help; and The Brotherhood took her with every intention of ransoming her to Robb. But they had been sidetracked into going after Gregor Glegane who had terrorized the small folk of the Riverlands. And worst of all, was when the Sander Clegane had promised to take her to the Twins where her brother and mother were. It was there that she had witnessed an even greater treachery then that of what Theon had done to Robb. She had seen Robb's men massacred by Bolton and Frey men. Both Houses who had at one time sided with Robb Stark. Hope was an illusion.

Even if she did take it upon herself to go back to Westeros, back to her home, she would probably only find that her brothers had died. She wasn't sure she could handle another disappointment, another reason for heart ache. It was better to live with the thought that, maybe, just maybe they were still out there, still alive.

With a sigh of resignation, she lifted herself up from her sleeping matt. The door slowly swung open and in the dim candle light she could make out the Jaqen's face. She managed to keep her face still, but something pierced it's way through her head.. _Even if I wanted to,_ she thought, _I could not leave here. Would they let me leave so easily? Jaqen had said I could go whenever I wanted. Was that still true now that I had a name of someone I was to give the the gift of death?_

"A girl did not sleep well," Jaqen stated, and Arya knew she must look a mess.

"I've had a lot on my mind." Arya said.

"Should No One have such thoughts?"

"No." Arya said sulkily. After yesterday, could she even pretend to be No One?

"Is it about the job you have been given to do?" Jaqen asked.

"No." Arya replied truthfully.

"Good. And how are the preparations for Lady Crane's gift coming?"

Arya stayed silent for a moment. She had not thought of that since before she had seen Theon. She had made the plan, the poison would work, and she had come to the conclusion that she would to the do the deed soon. She and done this all before Theon had spoken to her. There was no reason she did not have to go through with her plan. _Except that Theon had made you rethink your guilt about killing someone who had done anything to deserve it._ How could she judge him for doing the same thing she was going to do to Lady Crane? Theon Greyjoy was complicating everything.

"Well?" Asked Jaqen calmly.

She shook the her head to clear it. She could do this, she had been given a task. She would fulfill it, and remain at the House of Black and White. If she could hide Arya Stark before, she could do it again. This was her home now. "I shall give her the gift today." She said suddenly. "I have decided poison would be the best way to go about it. It will be painless, the woman deserves that at least, and it will be fast. I have the perfect way to deliver it, one that will ensure no one will accidentally receive the gift, only Lady Crane."

Jaqen nodded in approval and simply left her chamber.

—

The night after his confrontation with Arya Stark, Theon did not go back to the brothel. Instead he spent it at the dingy room he had been renting since he had arrived in Braavos. Sleep alluded him. Instead his thoughts centered on Arya. Every time he tried to picture her as the young woman she had become, he only saw the little girl he had known at Winterfell.

He doubted she would willingly see him again. It was plain she had no interest in having any kind of contact with him when danced away. And the one thing Theon Greyjoy knew about Arya Stark was that she was stubborn. Once she got an idea into her head, her mind would not be changed. How often had he heard Catelyn Stark complain about her daughter not doing what was asked of her.

Thoughts about Lady Stark inevitably lead to thoughts of how she had died. He had heard enough stories about the wedding of Edmure Tully to piece together that the night had ended brutally for Catelyn Stark. That's where all thoughts led to, that damned wedding. Robb had died there. Robb Stark, his brother in all but name. _I should have been there, I should have died with him._ His thoughts seemed to whisper to him. He was the closet thing Theon had to family.

Seven hells, all the Starks were the closest thing he had to a family. He could have never killed Bran and Rickon. _But that didn't stop you from making people believe that you did,_ a voice inside betrayed him. _You didn't mind killing two other boys, boys who meant nothing to you just to make people fear and respect you. To make them obey you. Don't forget about Sir Rodrik, did he deserve to have his head chopped off? By your own hand, a hand he had helped to train, no less. And what about the Ironborn you left behind. What do you think Roose Bolton's bastard boy did to them. You know what the Bolton's like to do to their enemies? How loud do you think they screamed when the bastard took their skin while they still lived?_

"Fucking ghosts," Theon muttered as he reluctantly sat up in bed. He could see the greying sky at the open window. Sun was coming up and he had to face another day. Although, the day felt slightly different. He knew it had something to do with Arya, but he wasn't sure what it was. The day didn't seem better, nor did it seem any worse then the previous day, just…different.

He mulled it over as readied himself to face the city. Once he was dressed he took the hand full of coins he still had and counted it dismally. He found himself running low, again. He would have to see if he could find work helping to unload any of the merchant galleys that had docked that morning. He almost laughed at the thought that Theon of House Greyjoy was reduced to manual labor just to live. And just like all the other times he wanted to laugh at the irony of it, he shrugged it off. He supposed he didn't deserve anything more than that.

Reluctantly he put the coin away. He cast one, quick glance at a wooden cup he had accidentally knocked out of a begger woman's hands. She had been blind and he must have frightened her when he came out of the brothel, because she darted away before he could give her back the money. He supposed he could have added the small amount of coin to his own, but something kept him from doing it. He thought the woman would turn up at the brothel again, but she hadn't. Still he kept the money aside on the off chance he would see her again. He he had committed enough sins without adding theft of a blind woman to them.

By sun up, he had made his way to the common room to break his fast. His landlord told him that if he would be staying any longer, he would have to pay his for his room and board in another few days. Just as Theon nodded his head to show that he understood, it hit him. He understood why Arya had made things look different for him this morning. For so long, he had been like a ship without a rudder. He did not know what he was going to do with his life. When he had come to Braavos he was directionless, and while he stayed there, he remained directionless. He had no real friends, the only people he felt comfortable talking to had been the prostitutes, and that was because…well, because he was used to them. He did not allow himself to make a home there. The only problem was, that he had no home at all. He did not know what he was to do with his life. There was no meaning to it. He went from one day, to another, just waiting for something to happen to him.

Then yesterday, Arya Stark had happened.

She hated him of course. He did not begrudge her those feelings. He would be the first to admit that he deserved them. He also did not know what exactly her coming back into his life meant for him. But he was damned sure he was going to find out. He had initially thought that perhaps she could give him some kind of forgiveness, but he would have to earn that, he supposed. He doubted she would make it easy for him. But she was living proof that the Starks had survived. Maybe, just maybe, getting a Stark back at Winterfell would atone for some of what he did. He took Winterfell from the Starks, maybe he could do something to help the family get back their ancient seat. Even if it only meant delivering to someone who could make that happen.

She would be stubborn about it. He would just have to be even more so. She would not want to see him again, he would make sure that she would. She had made it clear that she had made Braavos her new home, he would remind her of where she truly belongs. It might seem a hopeless task, and he doubted he would be thanked for it. To many it might even seem a bit stupid. But it was sure better then doing nothing, wasting away to nothing. Seven hells, the Night's Watch would have been better than what he was living now. He would just have to convince Arya that they should go back to Westeros.

—

Much to his surprise, Theon saw Arya that same morning. He thought he would have to search for her, but she was there on the the same cobbled street that the brothel was. She was pushing her cart along as if she did not have a care in the world. It appeared she wasn't even trying to avoid him. His first instinct was to march right up to her and demand that she listen to him. He almost laughed at that. No that would be too easy. She must have a purpose for standing so out in the open, it was as if she were flaunting her existence at him.

To make matters worse, she saw him. She had pushed her wares right past him. To add to the insult, she offered him a friendly smile, one that he was fairly certain that the Arya Stark who had grown up around him in Winterfell would never have given him. Especially to someone who she hated. No, this was a smile that must have belonged to this girl before him, this Cat of the Canals, as she was called.

She even paused a moment when their gazes had crossed. "Clams, oysters, or cockles?" She asked in that bright voice that any street vendor would use to make a sale.

His eyes narrowed slightly, _ahh so that's how she's going to play it. She's going to pretend that yesterday did not happen at all._ It made sense, the damage had already been done. He had seen her, he knew she was there. But she wanted nothing to do with them. They both knew that there was not much he could do if she choose not to acknowledge the fact that they knew each other. Instead of saying anything, he just shook his head and waved his hand as if to move her along. It seemed he would have to rethink how he would approach her. He would not be able to force her into another confrontation.

He watched as she shrugged her shoulders, and she gave him another, then moved to her next costumer. There was a brief moment where he wondered if he should follow her, but then realized that might make her angry and he wasn't entirely sure how this Arya, or _Cat_ , would react to being followed. He tried to reassure himself that she wouldn't disappear. If anything, seeing her so out in the open showed him that she wasn't going to hide from him. Perhaps she thought if she ignored him long enough, he would disappear again.

Instead he spent the morning at the docks, he managed to find a few odd jobs, and was able to make a bit of coin. In the early afternoon, he found himself back in the market area. He pretended to look at a few goods and bought a bit of bread and cheese for a midday meal, but mostly he was there hoping to catch a glimpse of Cat. At some stalls he would even venture to ask if anyone knew where he could find the girl who sold the shell fish. All he ever received was information that she would be around the next morning but no one knew where she went after she sold her fish.

It was a bit later in the afternoon when he thought it was time to give up, at least for the day. He was just about to head to a tavern for a bit of ale when he happened to walk by the place where a theater troupe had been set up for the past couple of weeks. He heard that at least one of the actresses was quite good, but that the play was a bit of a mess. When the play first started, he had half a mind to see what all the fuss was about, but then he found out what it was about. Anything related to the War of the Five Kings made him a bit ill. Reliving those bad memories was something he did not want to do, even if it was smothered by bad acting and bad jokes.

But this time, as he walked past, he caught a glimpse of the girl he had been trying to find all afternoon. Oddly enough Arya was waiting to pay for her admission. _Why in all the Seven Hells would she want to see that?_ Was the only thought that came to Theon's head. Immediately, he took his place among the audience members. Apparently he was to see this play after all.

—

To Arya, it felt as if she had seen this stupid play more times than she could count. Realistically she could probably count the times on one hand, but the writing had not gotten any better, and the only worth while thing about the production was Lady Crane herself. There was a brief stirring of guilt in her heart when she thought that would not be the case for very much longer.

She didn't pay close attention to what was happening on stage. She had seen enough to realize what was going on. Instead her eyes wandered over the audience. It felt like she was being watched. Had Jaqen come to see if she would finish the job as she said she would? Had he sent someone else? Was this some sort of test and she was being evaluated? Of course if that was the case, anyone one of these people could be following her every move.

Every once in awhile she would flick her attention to the stage, she had to continue the act of a rapt theater attendant. No one else could realize she was there for another reason, absently her hand drifted into her pocket to see if the vial of poison she had hidden there was still secure. It was, of course, and then she let her eyes drift over the audience again.

It was then that she saw him. Theon Greyjoy, apparently he had taken over Sansa's place as the bane of her existence. He seemed to be everywhere. She had seen him that morning. She had decided to ignore him as best she could, and gave him no indication that she had known him. She thought it would discourage him from trying to reach out to her again. She thought it had worked. But now, here she was, staring right at him, and he was boldly staring right back at her. He wanted her to know that he had seen her, that he had been watching her intently.

She frowned. Why did he have to be so interested in her? There was a gasp in the audience. From the dialogue on stage she knew it was the part where King Joffery was about to die. Theon must have been distracted by the audience's reaction because for moment his eyes darted from hers to the stage to see what was unfolding. She took that opportunity to duck into the crowd, using several of the audience members to hide herself from his view and effectively cutting off her own view of the stage.

It was for the best. The play would be drawing to a close, and she didn't need to see the imp killing Tywin Lannister. The players made a mockery of both Lannisters. She almost laughed thinking about how the grim Tywin would feel about these actors reducing him to an undignified, flatulent mess in his death throws. She pushed the thought from her mind, she had to focus.

She was able to slip in behind the stage easily enough. There were a few others darting about backstage, busy with their own tasks. She pretended to be tidying up, slowly making her way to where she knew the actors readied themselves for a show or cleaned themselves afterwords. She cast a casual glance around and no one was paying her any mind. She picked up a soiled cloth that was resting on Lady Crane's dressing table. She carelessly draped it over hear arm and then made a show of organizing the woman's make up. She looked around again, and still nobody back stage seemed to notice her.

For some reason her heart was beating fast. She cursed herself, she had killed before. She was no stranger to death. _But those people were different. They deserved their deaths,_ Arya's mind whispered as she looked into the mirror that rested on the table. _At least more so than this Lady Crane, she is going to be killed out of jealousy._ Arya heard clapping coming from the other side of the curtain. She shook her head, she had to stop thinking, she just had to act.

With one hand she pulled the stopper from the bottle of rum on Lady Crane's table, with the other she swiftly pulled out the vial from her pocket. She poured its entire contents into the rum and then put the stopper back. She looked to the stage entrance, no one had come through yet. She finished her task and moved away from Lady Crane's table. She picked up a few stray garments if only to make her guise as some sort of maid seem more credible.

Just as she was about to pass the stage entrance one of the players came through and threw part of a costume at her, adding to her pile of dirty clothing. "Here, wash this." He said without even looking at her.

She felt just a curve of smile grace here lips. It seemed she had blended in quite well. She was unnoticeable, just as most servants were. She walked toward a basket that was already piled with soiled garments. She would add her bundle of clothes to it and then be on her way. It was all she could do not to look back at the actors as they made their way to the dressing area. She wondered if Lady Crane was there yet.

Her curiosity was soon answered she heard the Lady's voice as she stepped through the curtain. Arya felt that uncomfortable sensation that she was being watched again. She could hear the other players talking amongst themselves, but Lady Crane's voice had quieted. Was the woman paying Arya too much attention? She hurried to add the clothing to the rest of the pile. She refrained from looking to where she thought the woman stood. Perhaps if she pretended not to notice Lady Crane's attention, she would be able to walk away before the woman talked to her. Of course, nothing would be that easy.

"You girl," Lady Crane said.

With Arya's back still turned to Lady Crane she allowed herself to cringe. This was sloppy of her, now she would have to think of a lie to explain who she was and why she was there. Worse, she would have to look the woman she was about to murder in the eye. She was quick to hide her discomfort, turned around, and offered the woman an accommodating smile. "Is there something I can help you with m'lady?"

"I've seen your face around here before." Lady Crane said with her head canted thoughtfully.

"Well, yes, m'lady." Arya said. "I sometimes come to collect the laundry."

Lady Crane's smile seemed amused, "Oh, I don't mean back here. In the audience." She let a small chuckle escape her lips. "How often have you paid to see the show?"

"I.." Arya was about to lie, but she saw the stern look the Lady gave her. "I pay most of the time." Lady Crane raised her eyebrows, and Arya had to try another truth, "Okay so I sneak in more often than not." Arya relented, and then quickly added, "but I did pay for today!"

Lady Crane laughed at this. "Ah, you remind me of myself when I was young. A group like this one came along in my village. I snuck in every night to see the shows. They enchanted me so much that I of course had to become one of them. When they left my village, I went with them, and never looked back" She gave Arya a thorough look, almost as if she was appraising her. She looked thoughtful for a moment, before bringing her attention back to Arya's eyes. "Tell me, what do you think of our little production?"

Arya hesitated for a moment and bit her lip wondering if the woman wanted honesty. "Well, you're very good." She decided to remain neutral.

There was another laugh from the Lady. "By that you mean the writing was shit. I work with what I'm given, and I guess that does make me good, but still that final speech I have to make is terrible."

Arya felt herself nod in agreement. Whenever she had seen the play, Cersei's reaction to Joffery's death never rang true with her. At least, the overwrought words of grief and pain didn't ring true. That was not how she had felt when she had lost so many family members. There was pain, yes, and sadness but there was also something more, something that the writing of the play didn't seem to understand. Before she could think, she blurted out, "well, you _could_ always change it."

Lady Crane raised her eyebrows at this, "well now, there's an idea."

"Without you the show is nothing, it's just a low form of comedy. There is no truth to it. Perhaps you're final speech needs something more, something more deserving of your talent." Arya said.

"And just how would you do that?" asked Lady Crane genuinely curious.

For a moment Arya said nothing. She was nervous. She was wasting too much time here. She needed to leave. Lady Crane had already recognized her as being out of place, what if someone else did too. As it was, she would probably never be able to be Cat again. She should have disguised herself differently. Her gaze darted around the backstage area. She needed to say something so she could end this conversation. Finally her gaze landed on the piece of wood that had been carved to look like a severed head. It was a poor imitation, but she knew it was used as a prop to represent Lord Eddard Stark. And for a moment she lost herself in the past. She had been present at her father's execution. However her eyes had been shielded, and she did not see her father die, but she could hear the crowd cheer at his death, and her sister's screams. She could imagine she could hear the sound of the steel cutting through his neck and the thud of his head on the ground.

She was so lost in thought that she had missed Lady Crane's an interest in both her and the severed head prop. Lady Crane said nothing, she simply watched Arya as the girl gathered her thoughts.

Finally Arya spoke, "Cersei just lost her son. There is grief there, of course, but the crying and the weeping, that would come later. She watched as he died, she must have felt helpless. He was taken from her, even before she could say goodbye or tell him one last time that she loved him. She just wouldn't sit there and cry." Arya took a deep breath, as what she was about to say next opened her old wounds . She wasn't certain how Cersei felt, but she knew how she felt when her family was taken from her. "And while at that moment she might have been helpless, that feeling would only last a little while. Because that helplessness would soon turn to anger. She would want vengeance. She would want to kill the people that took Joffery away from her. She would want to hurt them as much as they hurt her."

Lady Crane studied Arya, and there was sympathy in her tone when she spoke. "You speak as if you know what the Queeen had went through. What's your name girl?"

Arya blinked away the memories, and brought herself back to the present. "They call me Cat…Cat of the Canals."

"And is that your real name, Cat of the Canals, or do you like pretending you're other people?"

That seemed to startle Arya into action. Was this Lady Crane starting to see through Arya's masks? And she was startled to see the sympathy and even warmth in the woman's gaze. It had been so long since anyone looked at her that way…since her mother had looked at her that way. "I should go, my father will be waiting for me." Without waiting for the actress to respond she fled out of the back stage area.

When she was outside in the open air, Arya stopped a moment needing to quiet down her racing heart. That woman had seen too much of her, she had guessed that Arya was not who she pretended she was. Thankfully there was no way for Lady Crane to know her true identity. There were now two people in Braavos who had the power to see through to her real self. How could she pretend to be No One? And worse, that woman did not deserve to die. She had been kind, and she seemed genuinely interested in Arya. It was hard to find genuine people in this world. Why should one of the few have to die out of spite and jealously? She brought her hands to her face to hide herself from the frustration.

"There you are."

Arya knew the voice that uttered the words and managed to refrain from letting a groan escape her lips. She was not sure she could face Theon Greyjoy right now. Lady Crane had made her feel too vulnerable; but she had no choice. She shuddered one, deep breath and then let her hands fall to her sides. She didn't say anything, she just held his gaze for a moment. In those few seconds she saw the guilt flash through his eyes. He wasn't trying to hide it from her. He had killed innocent people, and he was paying for it. It triggered her own feelings for the people she had killed. The ones who probably had not deserved it, but who she felt she had to kill in order to survive. Killing Lady Crane was not like that, killing Lady Crane would not even be like Theon killing those two innocent boys. It had been a low, despicable act, but he had thought that he had to do it to ensure his power over Winterfell. But Lady Crane…there was no reason for her death. How could Arya live with that kind of guilt? There were others, more deserving of the gift of death. People she vowed to kill when they had killed her family.

Finally she said, "wait here." Then she turned around knowing that he would do as she bid him and retraced her steps. Her heart still pounded. She was about to cross a line that she could never come back from. After this, she could not pretend that she was No One. And at that very moment she knew she would need Theon to help her. He was the only one she knew in the city who might be able to help her.

It didn't take long to make her way to where the actors were discussing the performance. There was a brief moment of panic when she realized that she might be too late, that Lady Crane might have already drunk from her rum. In a rush she pushed aside the curtain that separated the actors from the main area, just as the woman was about to drink from her glass. Without preamble Arya knocked the cup from Lady Crane's hands.

There was a stunned silence that followed. All the actors looked at her in shock. Arya took each face in turn, and it didn't occur to her to speak until her eyes rested on the actress that played Sansa. That seemed to calm her down enough for her to find her voice. She looked to Lady Crane. "You should keep an eye on that one." She nodded to the other actress. "She's jealous enough to want you dead." She looked pointedly at the rum bottle and then turned away to flee the scene before anyone had the presence of mind to stop her.

She rushed out to where Theon stood, grabbed his arm and started to pull him away from the theater grounds.

"Would you mind telling me what this is all about?" He asked briskly as she led him away.

Arya looked back to see if they were being followed, but she saw no one. Which was good. There were a million thoughts running through her mind, and answering Theon's question was not one of them. She had defied Jaqen's orders. She was sure she would be held accountable somehow, and she was sure she did not want to be around to find out how. But there were still things she had to take care of at the temple. She needed to think of a way to get out of Braavos. And there was something else that was bothering her as well, something that was eluding her. She shook her head and looked to Theon.

Instead of answering his question she asked one of her own. "Do you have any coin?"

"Arya, answer me." He could see the panic in her eyes. "What happened?"

Arya shook her head, "not now. I'll tell you later. I need to know if you have any coin?"

He was silent at first. What was it that had spooked her? Just what kind of trouble was she in? Didn't he have a right to know, especially since she was now asking for his help? Then he realized that no, he did not have the right for answers before he decided if he was going to help her. He had already offered his help to her. She was now taking him up on that offer. He wouldn't question it, at least not yet. "I have some." He admitted.

"Enough for us to get back to Westeros?" She asked quickly, again looking behind her.

"Maybe, I don't know. But I could probably get some more if you give me a day or two." So it was home she was wanting. For a moment he felt a panic rising in his own heart. What would that mean for him? In the North his life would be forefit, of that he was certain. He took a deep breath. He would deal with what would come to him. He had a debt to pay to this young woman for what he had done to her family. He owed her this. "We couldn't afford a comfortable journey and we may even have work our way across the Narrow Sea."

Arya nodded her head. "I need to leave soon. The sooner the better. Could you find passage within the next couple of days?" Arya supposed she could find somewhere to hide until Theon had found a ship that would take them home. Jaqen wouldn't find out that she had saved Lady Crane's life until tomorrow. It would be okay to return to the Temple that night, at least long enough to take care of a few things.

"Possibly," As they sped along the street he gave her a sidelong glance. "Gods Arya, what's going on?"

"No time to explain. Get what money you can together by tomorrow afternoon. Meet me in the alley where we had our first conversation." She stopped them from walking any further. They had not been followed. "I swear I'll explain everything then. For now…just go the opposite direction from me. It's better if not a lot of people see us together". She didn't say goodbye, she simply turned and walked away.

"If you need me I'm staying at Grady's Boarding House." He called after her on impulse. "Do you know where that is?'

She stopped briefly. She didn't turn around, but he caught the nod of her head. If she had need of him, she would know where to find him.

Theon watched as she made her way down the street, then turn onto another street several yards away. The whole situation felt…wrong. There was something going on that he did not understand. He pushed his own rising panic down and simply strolled down the street, then turned in the opposite direction.

—

The sun was low in the sky when Arya found her way back to the temple. It was quiet and deserted as usual. Outwardly she was calm, but there was an unsettled feeling lurking under the surface. Something in the air that felt dangerous. She supposed it could be paranoia on her part. It wasn't only that she had failed to kill the woman, but she had also warned the woman that there was someone who wanted to harm her. Arya had even told Lady Crane who it was that wanted her dead. There was no doubt Jaqen would be displeased about all of that. There was also the fact that she had finally admitted that she did not belong there, amongst these servant's of Death. Now that she had done that, she was anxious to leave the place behind her.

She wouldn't have come back to the temple at all if she didn't have a good reason. Arya needed to retrieve her most important possession. Needle. She should have known she could not let go of her past the moment she hide the sword that Jon Snow had given her. When she reached Needle's hiding spot, just outside of the temple near a canal, she glanced around fervently, and found she was alone. Then she knelt beside the rocks she hid the steel under. It took her a few moments to work the stones free. When the the last of them were finally removed, all she could inside the hole was a shadowy darkness. For a moment she was scared that the sword was no longer there. She stared dully into the black hole. Then she forced herself to reach in it. Much to her relief she instantly she felt the cold hard hilt of her sword. It was safe.

She stood up quickly, and looked at the ominous building she tried to make her home. She did not want to go into the temple, but Mouser was still our there somewhere and the easiest way to find the Cat was to wait for her in her chamber. There was a bond that had formed between the two of them and Arya felt responsible for her. It would have felt wrong to leave her behind. She would have tried to warg her way into the cat, but her uneasiness left her nervous about leaving her body behind unguarded. It would be easier to wait for Mouser to come to her.

She managed to make it to her room unnoticed. The cat was not yet there, so she kept the door ajar, so when Mouser did return she could slip into the room easily. She sat down on the mat that she slept on with her back against the wall and Needle at her side. She would be ready to defend herself if anyone came into her room seeking to punish her for what she had done. She did not bother to light a candle, right now it felt safer for her to be in the dark. When Mouser returned she would quietly leave. Hopefully she would be on a boat or well hidden before anyone thought to look for her.

The minutes ticked by and neither cat nor human had made their way to the room. Her fast beating heart started to slow, and her mind started to calm. She was given time to think about what had happened. If she left, would Jaqen even pursue her? Was she panicking for nothing? If she thought about it, what would be the purpose of coming after her? She did not know much about what went on within the House of Black and White except how to deal with poisons and she also knew of the ways in which they changed their faces. But she did not know the identities of the assassins. Not really. She didn't even know how many servants there were to the God of Many Faces. Maybe they would just let her go free. Or had she gone too far with what she had done with Lady Crane. And what exactly would they do to her? Would they kill her?

She did not want to find out. She wanted home, she wanted Westeros. She wanted justice for her family, she wanted revenge. In her heart she had never given up her prayer, the list of names of the people she wanted to kill. She might have stopped saying it during her time with the Faceless Men, but it was always there in the back of her mind. Many of the names had been crossed off. Some by her hands like Meryn Trant, some who had been killed by others, like Joffery. But others were still alive. Talking to Lady Crane had reminded her of what it felt like to loose the people she loved and of the vengeance she felt she needed to pursue.

When she was blind, she almost forgot that. And the more time she spent in this temple to the god of many faces, the more she had become complacent in loosing her way. Now that she thought about it, the temple had allowed her to run away, and now it was time to stop running. Theon had said there was a chance that her brothers lived. To turn her back on that hope was the mark of a craven. She would face what Westeros had to give her. Her brothers were missing, but she also knew Sansa had escaped the Red Keep, perhaps she was alive somewhere too. And Jon…he had given his life to the Night's Watch, but Jon _was_ still alive. Perhaps if any of her siblings were still alive, they would have gone to him. It was a place to start at least.

Then there was Theon. She had seen him standing there, waiting at the theater. Without even realizing it, she had decided to use him. The hard fact of it was that there was no one for her to turn to in Braavos. She hated to admit it, but she did need help. She had no coin, and she needed to keep attention off herself which meant she couldn't travel freely around the city to steal or work for the money. Theon was there and he had already offered to help her. She let out a small sigh. It would not be the first time she would rely on someone she despised. She had endured the company of Sander Clegane, she could most assuredly handle the company of Theon Greyjoy.

Somewhere in the midst of all her thinking she drifted to sleep. Waiting for the cat to return seemed to be a boring task. It was several hours before she jarred herself awake. She let out a few whispered curses at at her stupidity for letting her guard down. Mouser, who must have come in earlier was curled in her lap. The cat lifted it's head and hissed at her for disturbing her sleep.

"Sorry, Mouser." She whispered, "but it's time for us to go."

The cat responded with what could only described as an annoyed meow, but got up and padded over to the door. The cat seemed to realized the importance of leaving as quickly as possible. Arya stood up slowly, her body stiff from the position in which she had slept. She allowed herself to stretch and then realized that she still wore the clothing of Cat of the Canals. "Hold on a moment Mouser."

It was time to fully be Arya again. She felt around the dark room to a chest where she kept a few odd pieces of clothing that she had been given. By feel she was able to find a pair of plain trousers and a simple shirt. She then discarded the skirts that Cat wore. She undid her hair that had been done up in a more Braavosi fashion and let it fall to her shoulders. It had grown some since she had been in the city. She opted to tie it back in a simple tail so that it would stay out of her eyes, and out of her way should she need to fight. The final touch was tying Needle back at her waist. Being dressed that way, Arya felt like herself once more.

When she was ready, she slipped through the door of her chamber knowing she would never come back. Mouser was at her feet and then darted ahead, leading her through the halls of the temple. It wasn't surprising that she saw no one as she skulked her way through the temple for the last time. It was never a very busy place and it was rare she saw anyone other than Jaqen or the Waif except when she was in the worship area. She was still careful, and breathed a sigh of relief when she stepped through one of the back doors into the fresh air.

It was still dark outside, but in the east, the sky was just a touch lighter. Dawn was not far off. She would have to find a place to hide for a few hours. She was thankful that she would have time to think about what she was going to say to Theon. She wasn't sure how much of her story she would share. She was still having problems with how much she should actually trust him. And there was still something that bothered her about the whole incident with Lady Crane. It was clear that she needed to sort out her thoughts.

First, Arya needed to put some distance between herself and the temple. Perhaps she could loose herself in the crowd of the morning bustle once the city started to wake. The most active place at this hour would be near the docks where the fishermen worked their early mornings. She found herself heading in that direction. The cat kept up with her easily, she must have known things were different this morning because she made no attempts to leave Arya's side.

For a good part of the early morning, they wandered aimlessly amongst the fisherfolk. But as the day wore on Arya knew she would have to leave, staying in one spot for too long did not seem like a good idea. Especially now that she would be missed at the temple and Jaqen would know that Lady Crane was not dead. She kept her eyes sharp, trying to pay close attention to those around her, making sure no one looked at her for too long. It seemed that she escaped notice, but she still felt vulnerable. She would feel better when she was no longer in Braavos.

She was crossing over a bridge that spanned one of the canals when a sight caught her attention. She had caught a glimpse of the large statue of the Titan of Braavos. She remembered the awe she felt as the boat she came in on, sailed under his legs. She remembered feeling a certain relief when she made it to the city. She thought that she would be able to find some sort of home upon these shores. But once again she was wrong. She had only found another place she didn't belong. And now she was going to say goodbye to that Titan. It was strange, but she did not feel any sadness at this parting.

In the moment she took to study the Titan she had let her guard down again. She was startled into awareness by an old peddler woman and her cart. Arya managed to hide the uneasiness she felt when she saw the old woman come closer. It was apparent the woman took too much interest in Arya. Of course, the woman could only be trying to sell something to Arya, but still she felt weary of the woman. Her sword hand lifted slowly to Needle's hilt. She made no move to draw it, she only rested her hand on the hilt casually.

"Lovely girl…" The old woman croaked, with a toothless grin.

Arya raised her eyebrows in question, waiting to see what the woman had to say to her. As she looked to the old woman her eyes caught the swift movement of Mouser as she dashed to the other side of the bridge. It seemed the cat had sensed something was amiss with this woman too. Arya tried make a move to pull her sword free; but the cat had distracted her for a fraction of a second too long. The old woman used that to her advantage.

The woman had grabbed Arya's arm before she could jerk the sword free and had slashed Arya's abdomen with a knife that she had concealed up until the time of her attack. Arya had cried out in pain and surprise. The woman was stronger than she looked, and instantly Arya knew that the old woman's face was merely a disguise. The Faceless Men had found found her and it seemed her punishment for defying them would be death. The first thought in her mind was to run away.

She pushed away the pain. The cut did not seem to be deep, and she could deal with that later. Her first priority would be to survive. She struggled to pull away from her attacker, but could not find an opening to free herself. Instead the attacker pulled her in closer and she jabbed the knife into Arya's stomach. There was another flash of pain. With a gasp, Arya turned to catch one more glimse of her attacker. This time the old woman's face was gone and it was replaced with the Waif.

Arya was not surprised that it was her. She had a feeling the girl was relishing the attack. Had Jaqen sent her, or had the Waif taken Arya's fate into her own hands? She should not have given this any thought as the Waif stuck the knife into her stomach again and this time twisted it. Ayra let out a louder yell, doing all she could not to scream.

 _Survive._ Her mind kept whispering that word to her.

Some how she found a burst of strength and wrenched her arm from the Waif. She pushed the girl away. The Waif must have been surprised by Arya fighting back, because she fell to the ground, a look of shock playing upon her features. Arya looked down at her, and knew that in her current state she could not fight the girl. She would not draw Needle right now. She needed to get away and somehow see to her injuries. She looked to the railing of the bridge they were on and realized the water could help in her escape. Just as the Waif was recovering her footing, Arya lunged for the rail of the bridge and forced herself over the side.

The cold water shocked her, but she forced herself to stay under for as long as she could, hoping that it would convince the Waif that she had drowned. When she could bare it no longer she surfaced coughing, shivering, and in exquisite pain. She needed help. With difficulty she swam to a set of stairs that had led to the water from the streets. It must have been a landing for some of the canal boats that used the water way. Slowly she climbed them, her hands clutched to the worst of her wounds.

She was bleeding heavily. She could see the red of her blood seeping through the fingers of her hands. There was a very real fear that touched her heart. Was she about to die? She could still walk, but she had no idea of where to go. She started to shuffle down the streets aimlessly, looking to anyone who might help her. But there were no friendly eyes in the crowd. It seemed as if the people would look at her, see how hurt she was, how dirty and wet she was, and turn away not wanting to get involved.

She stopped a moment to collect her thoughts. She ignored the suspicious stares of those around her. She tried to focus on where she was. She recognized that she was near the alley where was to meet Theon. He would be expecting her there, but not for several more hours. He was all she had in this city, he would have to help her, but she didn't know how to find him. She had no choice but to wait and hope that the bleeding would slow down so she wouldn't die.

She stumbled her way to the ally and then slumped back against the side of a building. She winced in pain and she was tired. The whole ordeal had weakened her. She felt herself slide down until she sat on the dirty ground. She forced herself not to panic. She took several deep breaths and then for the first time noticed that Mouser had followed her. The cat had not abandoned her. She took several deep breaths before the beginnings of a plan started to form in her mind. She allowed herself to gaze at the cat intently. If she couldn't use her body to go for help, perhaps she could use the animal's.

It did not take long for her mind to enter that of the cat's. She supposed now that she had done it several times in the past it came a bit easier to her. Either that, or her body was slipping into unconsciousness, which made it easier for her to transfer her being into the cat. She wondered what would happen if her body died while she was still with Mouser. Would she be doomed to walk around as a cat for the rest of her life? The panic threatened to come back with that thought. Then she looked to her body and saw that she was breathing steadily. She was strong enough for now, but she must hurry and find help if she was to stay that way.

Quickly she turned and padded off in the direction of the street. She supposed she should look for Theon. How she would communicate with him, she did not know. She would have to find some way to get his attention and get him to follow Mouser to where she had rested her body. The first place she had tried was the brothel. She had slipped through a back door, but and when she made her way to the main room she had to get used to the fact that she had to look up to see the faces of customers. To her dismay Theon was no where to be seen.

The night before he had told her of the cheap boarding house he was staying at, on the off chance that she might need to contact him. It was the next place she would try. It took longer than she had expected to transverse through the streets of Braavos. She knew where to find the place; but everything looked so much different when seen through the eyes of a cat. Much to her relief she had spotted Theon before she had made it to the boarding house.

It seemed he was on his way back home. His step had seemed lighter than she remembered and she wondered if that meant he gathered enough money for them to travel back to Westeros. He was nearing his destination when she darted across his path. He nearly tripped over the small animal and cursed as he struggled to remain on his feet. He gave Mouser an annoyed look before he started back towards the boarding house.

Arya let out a frustrated meow. The stupid man completely ignored her. She padded after him as he started to open the door to the boarding house. She slipped in before he noticed she was there. Theon told a thick set woman, who must have worked there, that he would like a bit of the stew they had at the fire for his midday meal; and then shuffled over to one of the empty tables.

Arya tried again to get his attention. This time when he sat down to take his rest she slithered around his feet as if begging him to pet her. It succeeded and he looked down at her. "So you followed me in, did you?" He made a shooing motion with his hands. "Go on off with you, I don't have time to deal with strays."

She answered him with a small hiss. Of course Theon would be this stupid. Instead of running away as he wanted her too, she jumped on the bench next to him.

He gave her a perplexed glare. "So, you aren't going to leave?"

As if to answer him, she reached out one of her front paws and scratched the back of his hand lightly, not enough to draw blood, but enough to let him know that she needed his attention.

"Ow," he cried out softly, and he narrowed his eyes in mild anger.

The woman who worked there looked up. She saw the cat and let out an annoyed huff, "hey, we don't allow animals in here. That filthy thing has to leave. Now."

"Of course." Theon said grudgingly, even if it wasn't his fault that the cat was there. Instead he scooped up the cat and started for the door.

Arya struggled in his arms. Theon let out another mild curse as he fought to keep the cat under control. "What is the matter with you, you mangey thing?" He asked after the cat managed to scratch him several more times.

Arya was cheered by the thought that she had managed to get his attention. Now she had to concentrate on keeping it. Once he was outside and frustrated enough to scream, he all but threw the cat to the ground. Of course the cat landed gracefully on her feet. She offered a long, loud hiss when she looked up at him.

"Go on. You've caused enough trouble." Theon muttered.

The cat replied with a hiss, and looked up at him expectantly.

"What is it that you want?" Something in the cat's eyes betrayed an intelligence that caught him off guard. The animal seemed to be too fixated on him for this to be chance. He almost laughed at himself for thinking this. Surely he was going mad and he was about to turn around and walk back inside, when the cat hissed again and butted it's head against one of his boots.

When he looked down at the cat she let out a meow, then walked a few feet away. Theon watched as the cat moved off, and then stopped, looked back at him and meowed again. It was as if the animal wanted him to follow her. He took a step in her direction, the cat turned and walked off a few more feet, stopped, turned to look at him, then meowed.

Theon blinked in surprise, and then followed the cat again. This cycle continued on a few more times before the cat was satisfied that she had gotten Theon to do exactly what she wanted him to do. Then she led him as quickly as she could back to to where Arya's body lay.

For his part, Theon was a bit concerned that he was following a cat. Was he making this whole thing up in his mind? Was the cat trained and leading him to be robbed and killed in some dark alley? He truly was mad to be following this creature, but there was something about the way that it looked at him. Almost like it knew him, and was extremely annoyed with him.

Eventually he realized it was leading him to that alley where he was to meet Arya in a few hours. Unconsiously, his step quickened, he had this odd feeling that something was wrong. He was no longer worried about being robbed and killed, it was too much of a coincidence that the cat was leading him to this particular place.

He saw the slumped figure on the ground before the cat padded up to it. Instinctively he knew it was Arya, who else could it be? There was no one else he gave a damn about in this city and he felt his heart drop as he rushed to her. She was wet and bleeding from her stomach. Gods what had happened to her? Did this have something to do with last night? When he watched her as they walked away from the theater, he knew that something had happened, that she seemed almost afraid of something. It appeared now she had reason to be. Who would want to kill her? Why would anyone want to kill her?

"Arya?" He could almost hear the anger in his voice, an anger that hid the terror. He had just found a Stark, was he about to loose her so quickly? She did not stir as he called her name. He felt helpless. He knelt down next to her to take a better look at her injuries. There was so much blood staining her wet clothing that he knew he would have to find her help. He couldn't take care of this on his own. But even as he studied the blood he noticed that her breathing seemed steady. "Arya?" He tried again.

Arya watched as Theon gently moved her hands that hid her knife wounds. It was odd seeing through the cat's eyes as he took stock of her health, almost as if he really did care about what happened to her. It took her aback a little, watching him be almost tender. At Winterfell, he would have never allowed her, or anyone else, see him in such a vulnerable state. It took him calling _Arya_ again before she pulled herself away from these thoughts and back to the problem at hand.

Of course he was beginning to panic. Her body was not to responding to his calls. She needed to leave Mouser and enter her own body. She did not have to force her mind to return to her body, for her mind knew where it belonged. The moment she came back to herself she felt the searing pain in her abdomen. She should have prepared herself for that. She let out a soft groan and then reluctantly opened her eyes. "Theon."

Theon took note that she did not seemed to be surprised that he was there. Maybe she had trained the cat. "Are you okay?" He paused a second and shook his head. "Of course you aren't. We need to get you out of here, we need help. I'll-"

"Lady Crane." Arya managed to croak out. It was the only other person she knew who might know how to help. "The theater, take me there, she'll know what to do." She grimaced as another wave of pain came to her. "At least I hope she will."

"Are you sure?" he asked, this Lady Crane had been at the theater the previous evening, what if it wasn't safe there.

Arya only nodded her head, and when she looked at him her eyes pleading with him to listen to her.

"Alright," He said quietly. "Can you get up on your own if I help you?"

Arya seemed to brace herself for the task at hand. Again she saved her strength by not talking and only nodded. Theon nodded his reply and then shifted to his feet. He gripped her arms firmly and carefully helped to pull her up so that she stood. She tried to muffle the groan that escaped her lips but he heard her.

He was just about to say something when she stopped him with whispered words of her own. "I can do this. Just, give me a minute.

He allowed her to catch her breath, then when she signaled that she was ready, he helped her to take a few stumbling steps forward. She started out strongly, but it seemed to be too much for her and after five of the steps she practically fainted. Thankfully, Theon had been there, holding her up firmly so she didn't fall to the ground.

"I…need…to…stop." She said breathlessly. The pain and fatigue was getting to her and she hated herself for showing Theon any kind of weakness. She could see the blackness crowding into her vision, and she wasn't sure she could hold on to consciousness much longer.

Theon must have realized what was going on because he was able to prevent her from falling to the ground by sweeping her up in his arms. She was such a tiny little thing that she didn't weigh much. He was almost relieved that she was too weak to walk. With him holding her, he would be able to get help much faster. He checked her breath, it was strong. While there was a lot of blood on her clothing she didn't seem to be bleeding too freely at the moment. He knew there must be a lot of pain and that accounted for her physical weakness. He knew Arya Stark was a fighter. He doubted she would die, not here and not now, he would do anything to prevent that.

"I got you," he whispered to her as her eyes closed. "I'll get you help. Just rest now."

It was the last thing Arya heard before she drifted off into unconsciousness; and Theon rushed towards the theater and Mouser followed behind him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's note:** Okay I know I do this a lot. But I was on vacation and then I needed a settling down period after my vacation! (You know they can be stressful sometimes.) I'm sorry it took so long to get this up. I wanted to be better and more frequent with my updates, but I just can't seem to make that happen. Thanks to all of you who put up with that. And thank you to everyone who has reviewed, favored, and alerted my story. In this chapter I'm starting to set up the next major event in the lives. I have to resolve the Braavos storyline as they'll very soon be departing the city.

 **Chapter 5**

When Arya regained consciousness, the world around her was still dark. It took her a moment to realize it was because she had not yet opened her eyes. Even though she couldn't see, she could hear the soft whispering of two people talking. Her head was foggy so she wasn't certain who those people might be, so she remained on the side of caution and kept her eyes shut so that the two people would think she was still asleep. It would give her a moment to figure out where she might be.

She was lying on a bed, not the cold sleeping mat in her small cell at the Temple. That thought seemed to jar her memory. The Waif's face drifted into her mind and that was enough for Arya to remember that the girl had attacked her. She managed to keep her facial features calm despite the surge of anger that came bubbling to the surface.

She wanted to move her hands to feel at her stomach and test the wounds. There was a dull ache radiating from her abdomen, but she suspected that who ever found her might have given her something for the pain. She remembered just how deep the Waif's knife had cut into her. If she had been given something for the pain then someone must have tended her wounds. She also felt warm and dry, her memory was still fragmented but she felt that someone had found her and seen to her safety.

Slowly the pieces of the puzzle of what happened to her after she had been attacked fell into place. It was Theon. He was the one that had rescued her. Well, she had given him a large helping hand, or paw rather. She had warged into the cat again. It had probably been her most successful attempt yet. She had actually interacted with someone else as an animal. She had gotten him to follow her, she had led him to her actual body. Perhaps whatever this power was, wasn't as evil as Old Nan would have had her believed as a child.

It seemed that was the easiest thing to comprehend about what had happened. The hardest part to understand was that Theon had been the one to save her life, or at least get her to someone who would know what to do for her. _Lady Crane,_ Arya thought to herself. _He listened to me. Even though the two are whispering I can still tell that it is Theon and the actress who in the room with me._ She resisted the urge to sigh. It was Theon, complicating things again. He had helped her, and she wasn't sure she was ready to give him the gratitude he deserved. _Seven hells, I'm not even sure I can keep myself from feeling thankful towards him. He_ saved _my life._

As she pondered what all of that might mean for her future, she heard the tone of the whispers become more heated. Followed by a brief silence that was punctuated by a sharp, annoyed 'fine' from Theon and the hard taps of of his boots hitting the floor as he walked away. She waited a few more seconds and heard a door slam. He must have stormed off somewhere.

Before Arya had a chance to be curious about what had happened, Lady Crane spoke up. "He's gone. He might not have figured out that you were awake, but I know that you are. You can open your eyes, there's no use pretending if I already know the truth."

Slowly Arya opened her eyes. Thankfully the room was dim, only illuminated by a the soft glow of a few candles. It must have been night time. Her eyes darted around taking in the space around her. It was obviously a bedroom of some sort, furnished with a bed, a side table,, a single chair, a chest of drawers, and several trunks in various stages of being packed. Then she looked up at Lady Crane, who looked down at her thoughtfully and touched Arya's forehead as if testing for a fever. Her lips twitched upward in a small, satisfied smile. "No fever, and that's a good sign."

Arya only nodded her head. "Can I have some water?" she asked with a croak.

Lady Crane nodded and reached for a pitcher that was on a bedside table. She poured the water in a cup but did not pick it up to give to Arya. Instead she reached down to help Arya prop herself up on some of the pillows that lay on the bed. "Don't try to sit up all the way." She warned sympathetically as she saw Arya wince in pain. "I managed to clean the wound and dress it properly, but you still need to heal. And that means doing nothing to aggravate the wound." She sat down on the side of the bed and handed the water to Arya.

Arya took a tentative sip, "thank you," she said with a little more strength. She paused a moment then gave Lady Crane a curious look. "How did you know I was up."

"Subtle changes in your breathing, a twitch of the cheek. If you want people to think you are truly asleep, you have to learn to hide these things better." Crane said off handedly.

Arya nodded to show that she understood, she stored the suggestion in the back of her mind to ponder at a later time. She looked towards the door and nodded at it. "Where did he go?" She was careful not to use Theon's name. She doubted he would tell Lady Crane who he was and she had no idea what name he might have given her.

"I sent him out to get fresh bandages and more herbs to clean the wound." She let a rueful smile escape her lips. "I didn't really need them, but he was driving me insane hovering over you, and constantly asking if you were going to be okay." She allowed the ruefulness to be replaced by something a bit more conspiratorial. "He seems very interested in your welfare. How long has he been attached to you?"

Arya's brows furrowed at the implication. "He's a family friend." She said woodenly, it wasn't exactly the truth, but it was a good enough story to feed Lady Crane. "My family has known him since we were children."

"Ah," was all Lady Crane said. She she seemed to guess that there was more to the story than that, but she did not press the issue. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired." Arya said truthfully. "And a little weak. There's some pain, but I can tell it's being masked by whatever you gave me."

"True enough," Lady Crane said with a sigh, "I don't envy you the pain you'll feel when it wears off. For the weakness I can give you a little bit of food."

Arya just nodded, the thought of any kind of food did not appeal to her. She was quiet while Lady Crane stood up and slipped out of the room. A few minutes later she returned to the patient with a bowl. She handed it to Arya and when Arya looked down she saw a watery soup. She frowned down at it, but realized she probably couldn't handle anything that might seem a bit substantial. Instead of eating she looked beck to the lady. "How do you know so much?" Arya asked abruptly. "I mean about fixing my injuries and knowing what to give me for the pain?"

Lady Crane didn't look at Arya, Once she had given Arya her food she had started to fold various articles of clothing and placing them gingerly into her trunks. "I suppose I know a bit about stitching up wounds and taking care of them because I'm so daft at handing them out. Some people say I have a bit of temper when the mood suits me. And I've had my fair share of scratches too. I've had plenty of practice fixing up various wounds." Lady Crane turned to look at Arya and saw that she had not yet begun to eat. "Go on, you need to eat girl."

Arya took one tentative bite and made a face at the bland taste. Lady Crane laughed. "Well, I'm not known for my cooking."

"It isn't that." Arya said hastily. "I'm just not that hungry." It wasn't a lie. There was something bothering her, but she wasn't sure what it was. Something was trying to make its way up to the surface and just when she thought it was on the very tip of her memory it would fade away.

"Well, appetite or no, eat." Lady Crane commanded, "you need your strength."

To answer her, Arya lifted the another bite to her mouth, this time with a small chunk of vegetable. She chewed slowly and then forced herself to swallow. "Happy?" she asked a bit sardonically. Crane nodded her head, satisfied. Arya carefully forced her features to go back to neutral. After another small spoonful of soup Arya brought up another question, "what happened to that other actress. The one who wanted you dead?"

Crane did not say anything for awhile, instead she studied Arya carefully. Finally the older woman seemed to come to some sort of a decision. "I told you I had a bit of a temper," she gave an unconcerned shrug. "She won't be acting anymore, not with what I did to her face." She said this as if it was no consequence. "That means the troupe had a need for a new actress." She looked pointedly at Arya. "You should come with us."

Arya blinked tat her in surprise, not sure of what to say.

"You'd be good. And something tells me that you have nothing in Braavos anymore. We're leaving for Pentos soon. It would get you away from any trouble you might have landed in." Lady Crane said.

For just a fraction of a second Arya was tempted. It was a way to leave the city. Then abruptly Theon's face drifted across her eyes. After he had helped her, could she leave him so suddenly?

Lady Crane seemed to be following her train of thought.

"The young man could come with us. I'm not sure how he would fare as an actor, but there are other tasks we could put him too." Lady Crane offered.

Again, it was such a tempting offer. They could travel with the group until Pentos and then find a ship to Westeros from there. Perhaps they could even earn some money on the way there. But before she had even realized that she had made up her mind she shook her head. "I don't think that would be a good idea. The…the person who did this to me, " she motioned to her stomach, "won't give up. She'll keep coming until I am dead. I cannot put you at that kind of risk. It wouldn't be fair, not after all the help you've given me."

"Are you sure? It might be safer traveling with company." Lady Crane said.

"Not with these people." Arya murmured. And still there was that feeling like she was missing something.

Lady Crane stood up with a noncommittal shrug. "Well the offer will still stand until we leave the city. Perhaps you will change your mind." She gave Arya that motherly glare again, "now finish your food before that young man comes back. He's been itching to talk to you."

Arya gave a small sigh and the woman smiled at her. "I won't let him bother you for long. You need your rest if you're going to get better quickly. I'll go prepare you some Milk of the Poppy to help you sleep."

"I'd rather not…"

"No doubt you wouldn't, but you won't argue this point with me." Lady Crane said, "it will allow you the rest you need."

Arya's only answer was a faint 'humph' and gave a look to Lady Crane as if to say 'we shall see.' But Lady Crane had astutely turned around and ignored whatever expression Arya was throwing your way. When Arya saw that she wasn't going to get a reaction out of the woman who had become her nurse, she simply went back to eating the bland soup.

It was shortly after Arya was done eating that when Theon slipped back into the room without so much as a knock. The first thing he did when he walked into the room was to glance towards the bed where Arya slept. She wasn't sure but Arya was certain she had seen a faint look of relief on his face before his eyes turned to Lady Crane in annoyed glare. "Here." He said gruffly and then shoved a small sack into the older woman's hands.

The bag must have contained the medicine that Lady Crane had sent him after, because she gave him a rueful smile. "Thank you." She said and then nodded her head toward's Arya. "She's up now, you can go ahead and talk to her now."

For a moment Theon just glared at Lady Crane as the woman drifted out of the room. Then without saying anything he turned to face Arya. He remained silent as he slid his way gracefully around the cluttered room. He still said nothing when he reached the bed. Instead, he just looked down at Arya. He carefully studied her expression, which had remained neutral. His eyes darted to her stomach, a faint line of worry at his brow. He must have been thinking about her injury. Then they darted back up to Arya's eyes. The gaze he leveled at her was intense, she could tell there was a mixture of anger, and worry, and she thought she could detect a little bit of fear. On the the whole those stormy, dark eyes of his made her feel slightly uncomfortable.

She had been determined to keep her silence, to make him speak first. But his gaze unnerved her. "What?" She asked grumpily.

Still he was quiet. He seemed to take that one small word as an invitation, because, he sat on the side of her bed, the very spot where Lady Crane had sat before. She shifted slightly, so that her leg would not touch him. Some strange irrational fear came upon her to be this close to him. He was not the boy she had known in Winterfell, that Theon was gone. Here before her sat a traitor, and even though she needed his help, and even though he said he was sorry for what he had done, she had not forgiven him. She didn't want to be familiar with him. So she moved away from him, ignoring the flash of pain that was apparent in those eyes for just a second when she did.

He recovered himself quickly, and so well did he hide his feelings that she wasn't even sure there had been pain in his eyes at all, especially with his tone when he spoke next, "Well?" he asked. She responded with a questioning, innocent look. He rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Are you going to explain to me what all this is about?" He motioned to where she had been stabbed.

She bristled at this. The way he had asked sounded as if he thought he deserved an answer from her. Her lips pressed into a grim line. She was about to open her mouth to reiterate the fact that she didn't owe him an explanation; but then something inside her whispered, that maybe she did owe him. He had saved her after all, and if she was expecting him to help her, she would have to warn him of the danger that surrounded her now that it was obvious that the Faceless Men just weren't going to let her go. After all, hadn't she turned down Lady Crane's offer because she feared for the woman's safety? But if she told him, would he abandon her? He had said he wanted to help her, despite any danger it might put in him when they went back to Westeros. But this threat was more immediate. And he wasn't exactly trustworthy. So did he really deserve to know?

When she hadn't spoken, he added a harder edge to his tone of voice, "well?"

She didn't bother to hide her annoyance when she finally did speak, "I'll tell you," she snapped, "just not right now."

"Why?" He asked accusingly. There was at least part of him that understood that she didn't trust him and he wondered if she ever would. Not that he blamed her, there were so many reasons he had given her not to trust him. So deep down he knew his annoyance wasn't at her, it was at him and for all the mistakes he had made in his past.

They glowered at each other, both of them frustrated, until finally they couldn't stand to look at one another. Then they both averted their gazes so that Arya was looking down at her hands, and Theon looked at the flickering candle at the table by her bed.

It was Arya who spoke first again. "I will tell you." Her voice had lost a little bit of it's edge. "I'm just tired." The excuse wasn't a lie. She was tired, exhausted and whatever Lady Crane had given her to ease the pain was starting to wear off. She still didn't look at him, but she heard him give a resigned sigh.

Theon knew he wouldn't get anything else from her at least for now. He knew there was still a long road ahead of him before he could gain any kind of trust from her. He had thought that him saving her life might have counted for something. He should have known not to be so optimistic. Instead he just nodded his head to show that he understood. "I'm glad you're okay. Lady Crane says as long as you can keep the infection out you'll recover quickly. By the time you're healed, I should have found us passage to Westeros. Maybe I can even gather enough money so we don't have to work our way across the Narrow Sea."

Arya felt the tension start to ebb out of her when she realized he was going to let the subject go. She would have a little bit of time to figure out just how much of her story she would be willing to share with him. They sat there for a few moments in silence, neither of them really knowing what to say to each other. Again Arya was the reluctant one to break it. "Thank you." She mumbled.

Theon jerked his head to look at her, wondering if he had heard those two words come from her lips. She looked at him again, and surprisingly it looked as if she genuinely meant what she was saying. This time when she spoke, her tone was a bit firmer. "Thank you… for saving my life. If you hadn't come I might have died."

He shrugged his shoulders. "It was the cat." It sounded funny, now that he said it out loud. "I think the cat knew you needed help." She was giving him an odd look that he couldn't quite figure out. He shrugged his shoulders. "I guess that's not important right now." He paused again, pulling his gaze away from her, focusing again on the candle. "I know it might be hard for you to believe, but I gave my word I would help you at least until you are home again. And I promised myself to make sure that another…" he had wanted to say that he wouldn't let another Stark die if he could help it; but his eyes drifted to the door that Lady Crane had disappeared through moments before. For all he knew Lady Crane was standing just outside the door listening to everything they were saying. He still did not know how much she knew about Arya's history. It might be a mistake to use the Stark name. "I made a promise to myself that I wouldn't let anything happen to you. I might not be known for keeping my word or being very honorable," This time he brought his piercing gaze back at her. "But, I'm going to keep that promise." He could see in her eyes and by the way her mouth opened that she was about to make some sarcastic comment or to explain to him just how much she trusted his word. He shook his head and stood up slowly. He wasn't going to listen to her berate him again. Anything she said, he had said it all to himself. "It doesn't matter what you say or think of me. I'm just telling you I'm doing this for myself just as much as I'm doing it for you and your family." He paused a moment. "Now, get some rest, you need your strength."

It was good that the two of them didn't use their real names throughout the conversation as it was clear that Lady Crane had been listening. Because she breezed through the door right on cue. She held a small cup in her hands, "He's right." She said, "you need to sleep." She handed the cup to Arya. "Drink this."

"I told you I wasn't going to drink Milk of the Poppy." Arya said stubbornly and turned her nose up at the cup.

Lady Crane let out an exasperated sigh and turned to give the cup to Theon. "Here. You see what you can do to get her to drink. Maybe she'll listen to you better. I don't have time for her nonsense." Arya huffed out a breath of air as Lady Crane seemed to be talking about her as if she wasn't there. "I need to meet a few of the other actors and discuss our traveling arrangements. I expect her to be sleeping soundly when I have returned."

Theon took the cup with a startled look. "I don't think she'll listen to me my Lady."

Lady Crane gave him a hard look, "figure it out." And with that she once more left the room and then the apartment altogether.

"I'm not drinking that." Arya said stubbornly.

Theon knew Arya well enough to know that he would never get her to take the Poppy. "I know." He walked over to the open window and dumped the mixture into the garden below. "But you still need to rest. Will the pain be too much?"

Arya shook her head and started to gingerly sink back down onto the bed. "I can manage." And she thought she could. If it became too much, she wondered if she could slip her mind back into Mouser's body to hide from the pain of her own. The thought had struck her as the cat jumped onto the bed beside her. She smiled a little, it was good to know Mouser had come with her to Lady Crane's apartment.

Theon looked thought fully at the cat. "Alright," he said, then looked up at Arya. "Goodnight."

She didn't answer him with words, only a nod of her head and watched as he sat on the only chair in the room. It appeared that he would be watching over her tonight. She wanted to object, but the truth was that the Waif was still out there. The Waif might know she's still alive. The Waif might come and try to finish the job she had started. And oddly enough she felt safer having someone watch over her. Even if it was Theon Greyjoy.

—

Sometime during the night, Arya drifted off into a deeper sleep then she would have thought possible despite the growing pain in her abdomen. She didn't need to drift off into the cat either. Her body and her soul must have been so weary that she needed the sleep to help her to heal both; and without the aid of the Milk of the Poppy she wasn't drowning in her sleep. If she needed to, she could could wake on a moment's notice and suddenly she jolted awake.

It took her a moment to assess what was going on around her. The light of late morning was streaming in. Instinctively she looked to the chair that Theon had been sitting in, it was now empty. Her heart seemed to skip a beat, because at that moment she heard him from the next room. "Stay back." It was a warning. Instantly she was on her feet, ignoring the stretch and pain from her stomach. She had noticed the night before that Needle was propped up against the table leg still in it's sheath. She grabbed it and gingerly went to the other door of the bedroom. If she was quiet enough, perhaps she could take the person Theon was talking to by surprise.

But it seemed a long sleep and her injury made her clumsy, because she treaded on a loose floorboard and by the time she made her way to the half open door, both Theon and the assailant's eyes were upon her. At first she did not notice this. Her eyes looked towards the floor at Theon's feet. Arya managed to choke back a surprised cry of dismay. Lady Crane lay just behind where Theon stood. The woman was on the floor, a large gash in her forehead bled freely. There was an upturned stool beside her, and her leg lay at an awkward angle as if broken. Arya did notice that even though Crane was unconscious, her breath was steady. The woman was still alive.

Arya's eyes darted up to Theon, who held a knife in his hand. His eyes dark and angry, gave her one quick look as if to say, he was ready to defend the woman who had helped them. He wore a cloak as if he had been out earlier in the morning. He must have come back to the apartment and interrupted whatever it was that had happened to Lady Crane. That's when Arya's eyes landed on the other person in the room.

This person was dressed in men's clothes but Arya's blood ran cold when she looked in the mocking eyes of the Waif. She had found Arya.

For a moment everyone was quiet and no one moved. "You should have killed her." The Waif finally said, and nodded towards Lady Crane. "The poison would have been less painful. My methods won't be so easy on her. This is your fault, you know."

Then just like lightening, the reason Arya had been so uneasy about Lady Crane became clear. Just because she hadn't killed the woman, didn't mean that the God of Many faces would not get what he was promised. Memories of Jaqen at Harrenhall floated into her mind. He had given her three names, three names to take the place of the men who she had saved from dying, and who had been denied to the God. He had promised her that any three names she had given him, he would give those people the gift of death. He had warned her that they would die eventually, even if he could not kill them right away. The gift would find their way to them even if it took years. Lady Crane would always be in danger whether Arya was with her or not. Someone had given her name, and the God of Many Faces would collect. Unless…and the answer came to her just as quickly. She had once named Jaqen, he had panicked and begged her to take back the name. After she had gotten what she wanted, she did take back the name, and the man didn't have to kill himself. If she got the other actress to take back Lady Crane's name than perhaps she could keep Lady Crane alive. Her eyes bore into the Waif's, but there were other problems she had to deal with first.

Arya still held Needle sheathed in her hand. It would be difficult to draw the sword. She knew she needed to keep the Waif busy thinking about her and not Lady Crane. "It appears she is not dead yet." Arya said quietly.

"That will change." The Waif said. "And it appears you are not dead either, another mistake that will need correcting." The Waif gave Theon a disdainful look, "and I suppose something will have to be done about him as well." She gave a noncommittal shrug, "a pity really, you were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time." The Waif looked back at Arya unconcerned. "Shall we get this over with," she looked pointedly at Arya's stomach, knowing full well that the injury would get in Arya's way while she defended herself.

Arya thought quickly. She could not fight the Waif here. Theon would try to interfere and would only succeed in getting himself killed. The thought scared her more than she thought it would, because if Theon died, it meant that she would be alone again. And she knew that if she didn't get the Waif away from the apartment, Lady Crane's life would be forfeit, too. Not once did she think that the Waif could beat her, even if she was injured. Her only thought was to lure her away from the other two. What better way to do that then to remind the Waif just how much she hated Arya?

Arya could see that now. The Waif hated her, from some reason. Hate seemed like such a powerful emotion for No One to have. Arya could see now that even the Waif was not any better than she was in her quest to become No One. Arya felt her lips curve into a wicked smile and her grey eyes flashed at the Waif.

"Yes, let us get on with it." Arya started to back slowly back into the bedroom. She still had not drawn her sword and for the moment she had no intention of doing so. The Waif took one step to follow her, realizing that the moment for Arya to challenge her had finally came.

"Wait.." Theon said and moved to follow the two.

Arya was now near the window and she had an idea that Theon would try to follow. She raised her voice so that he could hear her. Her tone left no room for argument, and she hoped he would obey her. "Take care of Lady Crane. Meet me in the ally at sundown." She knew he would know what that meant. Then she widened her smile to the Waif. "Catch me if you can." And with that she turned around, leaped to the window sill and then jumped to the garden below.

The jump was not graceful and she did not land on her feet. Instead she landed in a jumbled ball among cabbages and carrots. The impact jarred her and there was a tearing in her side as she felt her stitches rip. For a a fraction of a second, that felt more like minutes, all she saw was a white light and all she knew was pain. In a panic, she tried to push the pain aside. She could talk confidently, but the pain had hit her hard. Needle was on the ground beside her, and she looked down and saw blood on her once clean shirt. Reluctantly, she looked up and saw the Waif glaring down at her from the window she had jumped from. Grabbing her sword, she staggered to her feet, forcing herself to ignore the pain. She managed to put on a week smile and nodded her head in a shallow bow. "Are you coming then?" She called up.

It was all the invitation the Waif needed and she moved to jump from the window as well. Arya didn't wait to watch. Finally, the adrenaline she was hoping for started to pump through her veins. If she didn't run now, she would die here. Within an instant she darted toward the gate that led out of the garden. She heard the impact of the Waif hitting the ground just as she reached the it. She knew the Waif had not fallen as she had, because she heard the pounding of the girl's feet as she ran toward Arya. It didn't take long for Arya to push her way through the gate and force herself into the crowded street.

She did not think about where she was going, only that she had to get away. She knew that eventually she would have to pick a place to to turn and face her assassin. She dodged around a corner, and even if she didn't consciously know where she was going, it seemed her instincts knew where to take her.

Eventually she realized that she was heading toward the temple of the God of Many Faces. The place that had been her home for months and the place that she knew best in Braavos. But her progress in getting there seemed much too slow, she was starting to lose strength despite the adrenaline. Even though she was trying to ignore it, the pain in her side was growing. She ran with Needle in one hand, but her other hand held the side where the Waif had twisted the knife in her abdomen. Blood had soaked through her shirt and was now seeping through her fingers. She knew that she would have to finish this, and finish it soon. Or she would die and she could do nothing to protect Lady Crane, nor Theon for that matter.

Arya quickly darted around another corner, and slowed enough to look back to see how far away the Waif was. With a moment of relief she realized that she didn't see the girl. Perhaps she was able to put enough distance between them that she bought herself a bit of a reprieve. She slowed down to a fast walk and blended in more seamlessly with the crowd. She knew she had not lost the Waif for good, but she needed a moment to collect her thoughts.

She stumbled a little and winced as it jolted her body, she came to a sudden halt leaning against the wall of a building for support. For a moment, there was a flash of uncertainty about what to do next went through her mind. There was a chance that she might very well die today. Despite the suspicion that she was better with her Needle than the Waif was with her own weapon, it was still possible that she would fail. She was weakening, she knew it. The sooner she confronted the Waif the better. Once again, she started in direction of the Temple, her path led her to a hill that she needed to climb. With resignation she looked up and stopped short. At the very top the Waif stood, hands behind her back simply waiting for her. The Waif had known where she would go and had anticipated the way she would take to get there.

Arya let out a mumbled curse then jerked to the side of the street and found her way to an ally that led away from the main street. It led to a shadowy set of stairs that went down to the back entrance of a public bath house that Arya recognized. She was near the bottom when her feet gave way and she fell down the last few steps. The wind was knocked from her breath and her injury screamed in pain. For a brief second she thought she would not be able to move again. Then her eyes flicked back up the way she had come. The Waif was there, smiling triumphantly down at her.

That was motivation enough for Arya to pick herself off the ground. She darted inside the door of the bathhouse, ignoring the startled cries of those who worked there. She pushed her way deeper into the bathhouse that seemed to be a maze of different rooms and hallways. After making several wild turns she stopped herself from running blindly. Then at a slower pace she started methodically working her way through, hoping to find the main entrance to the building. If she could make it to the front of the building maybe she could slip away again from the Waif again, buying herself a few moments to think through her next move.

She was just about to turn another corner and make her way through yet another room when a thought stopped her short. She knew that the Waif would know what this building was and how difficult it was to navigate. If the Waif was smart, she would go to the front entrance of the building and wait for Arya to make her way through the maze and then ambush her when she left the building. Perhaps the Waif thought that Arya's injury would make her mind a bit dull with pain. Perhaps the Waif would think that Arya's only thought would be to get distance between herself and her pursuer as quickly as possible. Normally that would mean moving forward, never looking back to see if the pursuer was still there. To be honest, that was the only thing Arya thought about when she ducked inside the building, and she had almost blindly done just that what the Waif would want her to do. The Waif may be smart, but so was Arya. She couldn't go forward. What she should do, is go backward.

With that thought, she turned around and headed once more for the back entrance. Arya had no doubt that the Waif would be waiting for her at the front entrance. Arya would not make the mistake that the Waif was hoping she would. No, instead of the front entrance she would leave the bath house the way she came. She carefully backtracked her way through the maze and with relief she made it fairly quickly to the back door.

When she stepped out side she let out a sigh of relief when she saw that the Waif was no where to be seen. But the relief didn't last long, she knew she had to hurry. Eventually the Waif would figure out that Aya had slipped away from her again. Arya looked down at her bleeding stomach and saw the blood seeping through the fingers of the hand that still held her side. She watched as a drip of blood fell to the ground and she knew she would be leaving a trail that the Waif could follow.

She climbed the stairs as quickly, took a moment to catch her breath at the top and then started walking towards the the temple. She did not run, but kept a brisk pace, hoping to keep a low profile, and before long she found herself at the back door of the Temple. She slipped in through the threshold , making sure to leave a bloody hand print to show that she had been there. Now she was not trying to hide. She wanted the Waif to find her. In the torch lit hall she quickly, but quietly made her way to the cell that had been her room.

Once inside the room, she walked to where she knew there was a modest table where a simple candle stood. She set needle on the floor beside the table. Then she felt around for the candle and once she found it she moved to leave the room. There was a torch just outside the door and she held the wick of the candle against the fire of the torch. Then carefully went back inside and made her way table. She set the candle down slowly, she could feel her heart beating wildly. Now that she had a moment in which to rest before her killer came, she felt her legs wobble and turn to jelly. She knew that this was mostly from fatigue and the pain her body was going through, but she also felt that maybe there was a sliver of fear too. How was she going to fight the Waif when she could barely stand? With that thought she let her knees buckle. She had to control that fear. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Syrio, the man who had taught her to use her Needle, had taught her that. With those words ringing in her mind, she closed her eyes in silent meditation. She could master her both her fear and her pain.

It was in this way that the Waif found Arya several minutes later. With her eyes closed and her expression almost serene, the Waif couldn't help but wonder if the girl was readying herself for death. Arya made no indication that she had heard the Waif enter the room, and while it might have been easier to strike the girl when she was down, the Waif wanted to see a reaction from Arya, so she spoke. "It is your choice, you can either stand and die on your feet or you can stay on your knees." she said evenly. "Either way you will not walk out of this room alive."

Arya had known that the Waif was there, but the girl's voice made her heart skip a beat. There was a brief second where Arya lost her control and the fear and pain seeped into her consciousness. Then she heard Syrio Forel's voice in her mind, asking her a single question. _'What do we say to the God of Death?_ The words echoed through her mind. A ghost of a smile touched Arya's lips and just like that she pushed everything out of her mind except for the fight at hand. She opened her eyes and looked up at the Waif. "Not today." She said in quiet voice, but it was not to the Waif she was talking to.

With her eyes still closed, Arya lifted Needle to where she knew the candle was. With a quick flick of her wrist she sent Needle's blade to cut through the candle's wax, forcing the room into darkness. Then quickly raised herself from her knees to her feet. Now her eyes were open, but in the darkened cell of a room it didn't matter. Neither of them could see properly, and Arya could hear the sharp intake of breath that came from the Waif, followed by the girl drawing her own sword.

It was a gamble, blinding the both of them. Arya knew that the Waif would have had the same training that she did. That the girl must have been blinded at one time too, and would have had to learn to fight using her other senses. But Arya's blindness had been more recent, and from the intake of breath, she could tell that having to fight in the dark made the Waif nervous.

Arya lifted Needle to into a defensive position, and then waited for the other girl to strike first. She knew the Waif would, and then seconds later she heard the faint shuffle of feet coming towards her. She heard the slight hiss as the Waif's blade flew through the air. Ayra moved Needle to block the blow. The Waif cautiously attacked again and Arya managed to stop it. The Waif went through a series of cautious swipes at Arya, and Arya was able to block every cut and slash. Eventually, they both took a step back. The first attacks had been merely for the Waif to test Arya's defenses. And for Arya she offered no offense because she wanted to test her opponent's offense.

Niether of them said anything as they prepared for the next bout, neither of them wanted to give away their position. Arya stayed where she was, after a few moments of silence, Arya could hear the Waif moving about. To Arya it seemed as if the Waif was impatiently waiting for Arya to attack. It was in fact difficult for Arya to remain still, she wanted to strike out at the Waif. But she had been in enough fights to know that patience could decide the fate of the battle. It seemed that either the Waif had never learned this lesson, or more likely had forgotten it in her hatred of Arya. It was in this that Arya realized she could force the Waif to make a mistake. Eventually the Waif would be frustrated enough to make the first move again.

This time when the Waif came at her, she blocked the blow, but than countered with one of her own. However, even though she was caught off guard by the sudden offense, the Waif proved quick enough to deflect Arya's Needle before it reached her flesh. Arya didn't give her a chance to counter, instead Arya took the Waif's surprise slashed at the Waif again. This time she didn't aim for a slice across the body, this time Arya opted to cut the Waif's sword arm. With the faint cry of surprise from the Waif, Arya knew that her aim had been true. She had managed to trace a light scratch on the Waif's upper arm. It wasn't a deep wound, but at least now the Waif knew Arya wasn't going to be an easy fight.

The hit on her arm angered the Waif more than hurt her, and Arya knew that anger could make one stupid. She had been victim to that time and time again. It helped her to realize that she didn't hate the Waif. She didn't care enough about the girl to exert that kind of energy, because of that she could see more clearly, perhaps stay more focused. She was fighting the Waif simply to stay alive and perhaps on some level to keep others she knew in Baavos alive as well. She also knew that she could not keep up the fighting for much longer. While she was keeping the pain at bay, she was still getting tired. She couldn't expend much more energy on fighting the girl or she really would let the Waif kill her.

So she took another risk. The Waif, in her fury made a mad lunge toward Arya. Arya knew it was coming and instead of using her blade to block the blow from the Waif's sword, she ducked under it and moving so that she was behind the Waif. A searing pain lanced from her abdomen when she bent over, and she nearly fell to the ground in a heap. But somehow she managed to stay on her feet and while her blade was at the wrong angle to pierce the Waif, she was able to shoot her sword hand out and crashed Needle's pummel on the Waif's lower back.

The force of the blow, while not strong, it was enough to make the Waif lose her balance and she fell to the floor, her sword clattering out of reach. Arya utilized the last bit of her strength and speed by turning around so she faced the place where the Waif had fallen. Then without any remorse Arya managed to stick Needle's point in the Waif's back while she lay sprawled on the floor.

Arya knelt down again, this time next to the Waif. With the lack of light she could not be certain that she had given the Waif a killing blow, but Needle must have nicked something important because the Waif's breath was labored. Both Arya and the Waif knew that these were her last moments. Oddly enough Arya only felt pity for the girl. Her time at the Temple had taught Arya that you could ease someone's mind as they entered the embrace of the God of Many Faces.

Arya knew that she could end it quickly, Arya lay Needle down at her side and gently turned the Waif so that she lay on her back. The Waif let out a shallow cry as her body was jostled. Arya tried to bring a comforting tone to her voice. "I know it hurts. I know you know your life is now in the hands of the Many Faced God. I can make your suffering end quicker if that is what you want."

The Waif managed to let out a small, frightened whisper. "Please, do it."

Arya felt around the Waif's belt for the knife she knew the girl would have upon her person. With ease she found it. "It will be over soon." With the other hand, Arya gripped the Waif's limp hand. Then with a quick swipe of her hand, Arya let the knife's blade glide over the Waif's throat.

Arya held on to the Waif's hand as the life fled from her body She felt numb as she did so. Here was an enemy, and it felt odd to be giving the Waif any sort of compassion at the end. She stayed with the Waif until she was certain she was dead. She did not have to wait long. Only when she was certain that the Waif was gone did she put the knife regained possession of Needle and haggardly got to her feet.

When the numbness faded, the first thing she felt was a sense of relief. The Waif was gone. Then the pain and weariness started to creep back in full force. She started to limp towards the door. She would leave the body here, there was nothing she could do with it at the moment. She knew that someone would eventually find the body, it was no longer her concern. She had other more pressing issues to occupy her mind. Arya had to keep her promise to Theon and meet him at the alley, but first there were two other things she had to take care of before she could do that. When she took care of those things, then she could rest.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:** Hey look, I didn't take too long on this chapter. Well this one is sort of short. But it's an important one, setting up for the next phase. Hope you all enjoy. Thanks again for all the follows, favorites, and reviews!

 **Chapter 6**

The next hour was sort of a blur for Arya. She remembered slipping into the room in the Temple that had bandages, medicinal herbs, and other things to help in healing. She was familiar with all the herbs and potions that were on the shelves. There was nothing she could do for the ripped stitches but she was able to find a topical potion that would help keep the wound on her stomach clean and would thankfully, numb the area to keep some of the pain away. It wouldn't mask it all and it wouldn't help with the fatigue; but at least it would make it easier to finish her errands. She also changed the bandages, the wound was still bleeding freely, there was nothing she could do for that; but now that she no longer had to fight for her life, she wouldn't have to worry about aggravating it any further. Perhaps the bleeding would slow.

Eventually, she found herself wandering the area near the docks where there was cheap rooms for rent. She had asked around for the actress who had recently left the troupe that Lady Crane was a part of. It was surprisingly easy to find where the girl was staying now that she was no longer part of the group. Arya went to a few of the taverns around the city and asked the whereabouts of girl who had once been an actress and was recently scarred. Several people knew who she was talking about. On a lucky coincidence a bar maid heard her question and told Arya of an especially dirty, but cheap, inn where she had seen the girl enter a few nights prior.

Arya knew full well what most woman who stayed at that inn did for coin. It was a popular place with those prostitutes that weren't specifically attached to a brothel. She supposed that if the actress had no home to go to she would have to resort to selling herself in order to eat. That however didn't interest Arya, she didn't particularly care what happened to the girl. The former actress had made her own problems when she sought to have Lady Crane killed. It was no concern of hers. She did however have her own business with the girl.

The former actress was right where the bar maid told her she would be, sitting in the darkened common room, doing nothing of importance except staring morosely at the fire, probably despairing of the life she had lost. She looked haggard and older than when she had been playing Sansa Stark. Her cheeks were marred by angry slashes from a knife and large uneven stitches that looked like they had been sewn by someone who did not know what they were doing with a needle.

When Arya reached where the girl sat, the girl looked up at her and there was instant recognition in her eyes. For a moment it looked as if she might leap to her feet and attack Arya wildly. But just s quickly the feral look was gone and she let out a resigned sigh. "What?"

Arya looked down at her coolly, but there was a little part of her that was relieved the girl hadn't attacked. She didn't know how well she could fight back at the moment. She supposed she didn't blame the girl, Arya was after all part of the reason she was in the predicament she was in. Instead of mentioning anything about her current situation, Arya choose to ask a simple question. "What is your name?"

"Bianca." She said simply. Her eyes darted to the door of the inn.

Arya noticed and shook her head. "It isn't any use to run, Bianca."

"No, I don't suppose it is." Bianca said with a sigh. "What is it you want? If you're here to kill me you might as well get on with it. As you can see, I don't have much of a reason to hold on to this life."

"I'm not going to hurt you." Arya said plainly. "Well, I won't as long as you don't give me cause to do so. I just need you to do something for me is all."

Ten minutes later Arya was walking Bianca back to the Temple. Arya hoped this would be the last time she would have to see the building. She took Bianca through the front doors this time, knowing that anything outside of the main worship area would be off limits to people who did not serve the God of Many Faces. She hoped Jaqen would be there.

Once they were inside and Arya's eyes had to adjusted to the dim light, it took her only a few seconds before she saw a figure dressed in the robes that Jaqen usually wore within the Temple. The first feeling that came to Arya was of fear. Had he sent the Waif after her? Even if he hadn't he surely must have known what the girl was going to try to do to Arya? Did he want her dead too? She pushed the fear aside, she did not have time to deal with that fear now. She needed to do what she came here to do.

Arya took Bianca by the arm. The other girl was trembling, probably scared as to why Arya had brought her here. People often walked into the temple and didn't come out. Bianca couldn't help but worry that she might become one of them, despite what Arya had promised her. When they marched up to Jaqen his back was turned to them. He slowly turned around to find Arya staring at him. He masked any surprise he had at seeing the girl with ease. Then his eyes left Arya to look at the other girl.

"What is all this?" he asked calmly.

Arya teared her eyes away from him. She could not read his expression and that frustrated her. She would not be able to tell his feelings about her being alive in these first few moments. Instead she looked to the frightened girl to her left. Her hand still gripped Bianca's hand firmly and she gave a little shove so the girl stood in front of her. "Go on."

Jaqen raised his eyebrow in curiosity as the girl stumbled forward. Bianca took a deep breath, and seemed to conquer some of her fear. "I…I… take back Lady Crane's name. I don't want her dead anymore."

Arya held her breath for a moment. She hoped this worked. She remembered that she had given Jaqen his own name, to give himself the gift of death, and then she had taken it back. But that had been a different situation; and she was not sure that it would work here. There was still many things she didn't know about the Faceless Men, she just hoped this would work. Arya noticed Jaqen's eyes on her, as if studying her closely. It seemed as if he was giving something serious thought. For several minutes there was no sound and the quiet was starting to make both Arya and Bianca nervous. Finally, Jaqen simply looked to Bianca and nodded his head. "The gift will no longer be given."

Bianca let out an audible sigh of relief. Arya looked over to her and touched her arm so that the girl would look at her. She whispered, "you did your part. You can go back to the inn now." It was a curt dismissal with no thank you or no good bye. Arya didn't think she owed Bianca any of that and now her usefulness was at an end. She watched as Bianca took the invitation to leave gratefully. Bianca turned around and quickly started to walk away form Arya.

Arya did not watch her leave. Instead she turned back to where Jaqen stood, only to be greeted with empty space. He had evaded her, and she wasn't done talking to him. She had a feeling he knew that. Her eyes searched out the large, dim area of the main worship area. She heard the latch of a door open and then saw the touch light coming form the hall that the door opened into. The robed figure of Jaqen quickly stepped through the door. It didn't take long for Arya to dart after him.

When she was through the door, and heard the door close behind her, she dashed after the retreating figure of Jaqen.

"Did you send her to kill me?" She demanded as she closed in on him. The question made him pause mid step. He stopped and turned to look at her questioningly. She asked again when he didn't answer. "Did you want the Waif to kill me?"

"A girl is not dead." He answered plainly, which Arya noted was not an answer to the question.

"No, I am not." Arya affirmed.

"If a man wanted a girl dead, he would have done it himself." Jaqen said simply. "He would not have sent another."

So he hadn't sent her, but that did not make him innocent, she knew he was playing word games with her. She glared at him. "Did you know she would come after me?"

He did not say anything this time, but he simply inclined his head toward her in the affirmative.

Arya frowned, he knew, but he didn't stop it. Then a dark thought came into her mind, "did you give her permission to come after me?"

Again it took a moment for him to answer her as he studied her face. "The Waif did not succeed."

"No," Arya snapped, realizing that again he did not answer her. "Nor will she. Right now she lies in the room that I used to sleep in."

"A girl has killed the Waif, then?" There was no surprise in his tone of voice. He must have been certain of the outcome.

Arya almost let her surprise at the revelation show upon her face. "I have."

"So then despite your momentary affection to the actress, a girl really has become No One."

"No." Arya said cooly, then she raised her chin proudly, "I am now, and forever, Arya Stark."

There was a small twitch of Jaqen's cheek as she said this, as if he wanted to smile. Arya knew he wasn't surprised by the revelation.

"You knew, you always knew," she said with a bit of bewilderment. "You knew I wasn't cut out for this…to be No One."

"Perhaps."

"Then why did you give me the coin?" She asked in exasperation.

"A man had hope, a man saw something in that girl at Harrenhal, there was death in her eyes. She would have served the God of Many Faces well, if she could have become No One," he paused a moment, giving some thought to the girl who stood before him. "But perhaps a man knew that Arya Stark was too strong. The girl who was at Harrenhal was not ready for everything that Arya Stark needed her to be ready for. She needed to study Death a bit more. Arya Stark needed to come to the Temple."

Arya gazed at him, not sure how to respond to this. "Am I ready now?"

Jaqen tilted his head to the side. "Perhaps. A man does not know. The only thing a man knows, is that Arya Stark can learn no more here."

Arya nodded her head slowly in understanding. Besides having gained Lady Crane's life she had come here to save her own. "That is it then? I can just go?" She asked quietly, hardly believing that it had been this easy.

Jaqen nodded his head once in the affirmative.

"And Lady Crane too?"

"The God may have been denied one name, but another has taken her place." Jaqen said, and Arya knew that the Waif would be considered the replacement.

Arya let a small smile spread across her lips. There seemed to be some justice in that, and she was satisfied that Lady Crane would remain safe. Arya herself was safe. There were of course still questions that she had for Jaqen. He had not answered her completely about his involvement in the Waif's actions regarding the attack on Arya, but she doubted she would ever get the answer for that. It had been enough that he had predicted that Arya would come out the winner when the time came for the Waif and Arya to face each other. He knew she would be the one to live. It chilled her a little to know that to Jaqen, the Waif had been expendable. She wondered if she might have been treated the same way if she stayed at the Temple. She shook her head quickly, that didn't matter now. What mattered is that she trusted Jaqen enough to believe his words when he said she was free to go.

Arya gave Jaqen one last measured look. Then turned around walked the length of the hallway, went through the main area of the Temple, and then stepped through the main entrance, into the late afternoon sunlight.

She was free.

—

There were empty, wooden crates in various states of disrepair in the alley where Theon was to meet Arya. He sat on one of the more sturdy ones. The cat, the one that had led him to Arya in the very same ally was casually lying in his lap. His hand scratched lightly behind her ears, the cat purred steadily. The cat seemed to have adopted him after Arya had left Lady Crane's apartment so suddenly.

"Stupid girl." He muttered under his breath. He tried to pretend that he was annoyed with what she had done, luring that other girl away from him and Lady Crane. He knew she wouldn't be able to defend herself properly, not with her being as hurt as she was. What had she been thinking?

"Stupid." He said again in another harsh whisper. Only this time he wasn't talking about Arya. This time he was talking about himself. He knew that his annoyance was merely a mask for his real emotion, fear. Fear that something really had happened to her. He had seen the expression in the other girl's eyes. She wanted blood, and he knew it must have been Arya's that she wanted. He assumed that she had even been the cause of Arya's injuries. And when the time came to defend Arya? What had happened? He froze. He let her run away, leaving her to defend herself. So much for making sure the Starks didn't die off completely.

Sure she had wanted him to stay back, to help Lady Crane, but he didn't have to listen. Lady Crane would have been fine. She would have woken up with a nasty headache and her leg was broken, but…well, he couldn't shake this feeling that Arya might have needed him more. It had been hours since she disappeared. He had come here just after midday and now the sun was hanging low in the sky. An absence this long couldn't mean anything good.

Yet here he sat. Waiting nervously for the lost little wolf pup to come back.

An image of Arya, floating face down in one of the canals flashed before his eyes. He grimaced, closing his eyes fast, trying to get rid of the morbid image. He kept trying to tell himself that she could still be alive, that there was a reason for her delay. Just as he was about to open his eyes, the cat suddenly jumped off his lap. His eyes did flick open and his line of sight followed the cat.

He saw that the cat padded up to someone's feet, and instantly his dark gaze lifted to see a tired and haggard looking Arya. His heart leapt in his chest, she was alive. He all but jumped up and rushed over to her side. He reached out and grabbed her waist and slid his arm around her, then turned so he could help her back to where he had been sitting. She was so tired that she simply leaned against him. Maybe she was starting to trust him, at least a little. He almost smiled at that, but then carefully made his face neutral. He looked down sideways at her, and in a gruff voice asked, "well?"

For a moment she didn't say anything as he helped her limp along. She was still trying to sort through every thought and emotion she had felt since she walked away from the Temple. When she had turned down the ally and had seen him sitting there the first thing she felt was relief. She hadn't even been aware that she was worried that he might not show up, that he might realize how dangerous it was to be around her, and just abandon her. It seemed like everyone who she had come to rely on abandoned in some way or another. But there he had been sitting on a crate with that stupid cat in his lap. Then when he had seen her, she had seen the relief in his own eyes, he had been worried about her. When he had rushed up to her and reached out his hand to her, for a moment there, she thought he was going to embrace her. Then after she had realized he was only going to try to help support her, she wondered what she would have done if he had hugged her. Everything about the day had been a jumbled mess.

Finally, she said in a resigned voice. "I took care of it." She winced at the pain in her side as he helped her to sit down on the crate. He sat down next to her and without much of a thought she leaned against him for support.

"Took care of what exactly?" He asked sharply.

"The girl, and I made sure that no one will be coming after me in the future." She muttered tiredly. _A least from the Faceless Men._ She thought to herself.

"That's it? That's all your going to tell me?" There was a hint of incredulousness in his tone.

Arya let out a weary sigh. "It is for right now. Please, Theon. I'm tired." She closed her eyes.

"Fine." Theon took in her pale face and the hollow look in her eyes when he first saw her told him just how much the fatigue was getting to her. His eyes lowered to the spot on her stomach where he knew she had been stabbed. He frowned slightly at the blood stain. "You're still bleeding."

Arya opened her eyes and looked down at the wound. "Oh, yeah," she said a bit offhandedly. "I tore my stitches when I jumped. We'll have to get that fixed, but right now all I want to do is go to sleep. Do you still have a room at that inn you were staying at?"

"What?" asked Theon asked bewilderedly, unable to take his eyes from the blood stain. "Oh, yeah. But don't you want to go back to Lady Crane? She'll know better what to do."

"She's okay then?" There was a look of relief that came to her face.

Theon nodded. "She broke her leg and had a nasty wound to the head, but she'll be okay. One of the actors from her troupe is looking after her, the dwarf, when I left her to come here. They seem to know what to do for wounds and broken bones and what not, almost as good as Maester Luwin was." He said the name quietly, and Arya thought she saw a flash of pain and regret shoot through his eyes. Maybe he really was sorry for what he had done. She shook her head, it stills didn't make up for everything he had done. Then listened to him continue with what he was saying. "We should probably take you back there."

Arya shook her head slowly. "No. I've caused enough problems for Lady Crane. I'd just as soon leave her and her acting troupe alone." Even now Lady Crane's offer for her and Theon to accompany the troupe to Pentos was tempting. "Besides, we need to look for a way back to Westeros sooner, rather than later. She'll just distract us. We'll figure something out about the stitches. If we must, I can teach you how to sew. I was never any good, but I'm sure we can manage. I'll probably be scarred though."

Theon looked like he wanted to argue, but a sideways glance her way revealed to him just how drained she was. Her eyes were starting to close and he knew that any kind of argument would be fruitless. Perhaps once she had gotten some rest he could at least talk her into going to someone who knew what they were doing when it came to a needle and thread, even if it wasn't Lady Crane. He let out a small, resigned sigh, then moved his arm she had been resting against slightly as if to nudge her awake.

Her tired eyes opened and looked at him him questioningly. "Yeah?"

"Come on, let's go," he said. Reluctantly, she sat up straight, frowning at the chill in the air that she felt all the more, now that she didn't have his body heat to keep her warm. He stood up slowly and then reached out his hand to her. He looked surprised at the fact that she had reached out and took his hand.

She felt a ghost of smile come to her lips, and gave a bit of a shrug. "I'm in too much pain and I'm too tired to be proud. Don't get used to me accepting your help."

He let out a small snort. "Don't worry. I won't." Gently he helped her up to her feet and was just about to turn around to lead her out of the ally when he felt a small prick of pain at the back of his neck. It was so small and so sudden that at first Theon equated it to a bug bite. He slapped his free hand to the back of his neck and felt something hard sticking into his skin. He gave Arya a perplexed look as he pulled the thing out of his neck. His vision started to double as he brought the object up to his eye level. He was shocked to see it was a small, needle like thing. His thoughts were starting to cloud now, and he tried to say something, but his brain didn't seem to be working right. He blinked his eyes once, he had just enough presence of mind to realize someone had poisoned him. Then suddenly his knees buckled and he crumpled to the ground.

It had happened so suddenly that Arya had been caught unawares. She watched horrified as Theon revealed the dart and then felt helpless as he fell down. Instinctively she started to reach for her own Needle. Her heart thudded in terror as she realized her reaction time was slow. Who could be doing this? Could Jaqen have lied to her? Were they coming after her even now? These questions flashed through her mind before her hand had even reached her sword's hilt. She had just touched it, when she heard the shuffling of footsteps behind her.

"Sorry dearie, can't have you getting' your hands on that," a harsh voice said. Before Arya could even turn around to confront her attacker, the man raised his fist, that held a sword of his own, and brought the pummel down on Arya's head.

Pain exploded in Arya's head; and she felt the earth yank from under her feet as she joined Theon on the ground. She could see black closing in on her vision. She knew that she was about to pass out, and she knew that she would be helpless. It was nothing she could fight, and for one brief moment, she wondered if this would be the end.

Then she heard another voice speak. "They'll be alright. She'll have a bit of a headache and he will too, on top of a bit of nausea, but they'll be fine. Let's make sure they stay that way, or he'll have our hides." He paused a moment and bent over Theon. Arya's vision was starting to fade, but she watched as several more pairs of boots shuffled into view. The man over Theon spoke again. "Come on let's get them out of the ally before we start callin' attention to ourselves."

There was a brief moment where Arya felt a bit of hope. They were not to be killed. Her last thought before she slid into unconsciousness was that when she woke up she would have a chance to figure out how to escape.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:** Sorry this took so long. Spring is never a good time for me. I know, I know…I always tell myself that's not an excuse. These next couple of chapters are kind of character/relationship building for the two of Arya and Theon as they figure out their next moves. It's going to be a little rough going, but they'll make progress. Anyway thank you everyone for your patience! And thanks to those who favored, alerted, and reviewed the story, as always. To Monty: Thank you! Reviews like yours always mean a lot. I like knowing that people enjoy my writing. To Lolly: Thanks! Sorry this chapter doesn't offer a lot of insight as to what's going on with them. But there are some clues.

 **Chapter 7**

Theon sat down gently on the bed next to where Arya slept. He looked down at her, with some relief, it was the first time in several days that she rested peacefully. He lifted a hand to brush a stray strand of hair away from her forehead. When she was sleeping like this, it reminded him of the Arya she had been at Winterfell growing up. She almost looked like that little girl who's biggest worry was that her mother was going to force her into a dress and spend the afternoon doing needlepoint. He let a grim, wistful smile touch his lips.

His finger index finger trailed from her forehead, down the side of her face, lightly tracing her jaw. He frowned, as flashes of images from Winterfell assaulted his mind. Arya constantly trying to insert herself into whatever Robb, Jon, and Theon were doing, the sulky face she pulled when they shunned her. Pictures of Lady Catlyn admonishing Arya for her messed hair and ripped dress. But the the memories were not just of Arya, he saw Robb in the practice yard, Bran climbing the towers, Rickon running wildly around, and of Sansa holding her head high, thinking herself above all the childish antics of her younger siblings. He saw the youngest Stark boys as babies on their mother's hip. He saw Bran broken and helpless on a bed, and the look of pain the boy had as he realized that Theon had come back to Winterfell only to betray the family that had raised him. He saw the stern, hard eyes, of Lord Eddard Stark administering justice to his people. He closed his eyes fighting the memory of the last time he saw Robb; when he had made the promise that he would bring the Iron Born to Robb's cause, when he had called Robb Stark brother.

Theon shook his head gently, pushing it all away. He opened his eyes and looked down Arya, his finger still lingering on her jaw. She looked so small, so helpless. He suddenly felt very protective of this girl. He supposed it had been there from the moment he saw Arya Stark again, when he realized who she was. But the idea of protecting her had seemed more of a duty. She was a means to an end, a pathway to redemption. Looking at her now, she was more than just Arya Stark, she was someone who was just as broken as he was. He had seen it in her eyes when they had first reunited and later in Lady Crane's apartment. At first he hadn't recognized the pain in her eyes as being similar to his. He had been too wrapped up in wanting to fix his own guilt. It took seeing her in this helpless state, when she couldn't hide behind her tough exterior to realize they were the same.

It had been wrong for him to expect her to give him the forgiveness, it was selfish to think she could redeem him. No one had that kind of power, not after all that he had done. The only thing he could really do was just strive to be better, and he had already been trying to do that, and maybe eventually he could forgive himself. Helping Arya get home, he owed her that, and it was the right thing to do. It was all he had to offer her, he owed her more, but this was a start.

He lifted his finger to her brow again and traced the skin of her forehead again. The only problem was, that he wasn't sure how he was going to do that exactly. At the moment they were being held captive. It was a comfortable sort of confinement. They were in a small room, on the upper floor of a farm house. Or at least that was what thought after looking out the one tiny of the room they had been kept in. There was an old bed, that Arya slept on, with enough blankets to keep her warm. The people who had taken them sewed up her stab wounds and and had given her medicinal herbs and potions when she developed the infection. They regularly supplied Theon with food and water, but that was all. Theon was perplexed by their behavior, they made sure Arya and Theon were kept alive, but they made no explanations as to who they were or what they wanted.

While Theon was starting to have some of these revelations, Arya started to claw her way consciousness. The first thing she was aware of when she woke up, was that her head hurt, like she had slept for a long time, but it wasn't a restful sleep. She didn't dare open her eyes, she was too afraid that doing that might make her head feel worse. The second thing she noticed was how hungry she felt. Her stomach felt as if she hadn't eaten in days. The hunger led her to the realization that her mouth felt dry and she was clearly in need of water. The only sensation of comfort came from the gentle touch of someone tracing a finger across her forehead. It was soft enough to be called a caress and at the moment it felt almost reassuring. She wasn't alone.

Her mind was a jumbled mess, other than the physical sensations of her body she simply couldn't comprehend what she was going through. Something pulled at the back of her mind, something she was not remembering, something that urged her to be careful, that she should be ready for some sort of action. She remembered being in an alley, falling to the ground, but it all seemed a blur. She remembered being jostled around, a piercing pain in her abdomen. Had there been feverish dreams? Her remembered feeling cold and hot at the same time. But she also remembered dark, concerned eyes staring down at her in dim candle light.

Then with a sudden flash she remembered that she hadn't fallen to the ground. She had been hit in the back of the head, someone had done this to her. Someone had taken her. Her eyes bolted open, it took effort but she managed to pick up her arm and push at the hand of the person who was with her. She had been abducted. That could only mean that the person who was with her was an enemy.

She had to squint at the man who sat beside her. The room was dim, lit only by a single candle that stood on a creaky table that was next to the bed. It only just illuminated the person who looked down at her. She recognized the eyes of the person who had been looking down on her with such concern. There was a slight moment of confusion and then, "Theon?" was all her parched throat would let her say?

"You're up." He said simply. He put his hand to her forehead again, this time allowing his whole palm to rest gently against her forehead. It was as if he was afraid to press against her too hard in fear that she might break. "Your fever has gone down. I think the worst of it is over now."

Arya brushed away his hand again. The concern in his eyes, and the strange reassurance she felt at the cool touch of his hand was making her feel weak. The effort it took to push him away was exhausting. And her parched throat was starting to hurt her."Water?" she croaked.

"Oh, right." He said, ignoring the fact that she had pushed him away, and moved quickly to pour her a small cup of water from a jug that stood on the table. Much to her annoyance he put the cup down and looked at her apologetically. "You'll probably need help sitting up." Before he could even finish the sentence she was struggling to prop herself up and he moved quickly to help her.

She winced when she felt the stab wound in her stomach pull, but the pain was mild. She blinked at that, a bit surprised. She remembered aggravating those wounds when she fought the Waif, she had expected to be in pain and uncomfortable for a while yet. Now that she was sitting she looked down at her hands trying to figure out what she was doing here, or even where _here_ was. The view of her hands was interrupted by Theon offering her the small cup of water.

"Do you need help?" He asked gently.

She picked up her head to look at him, her eyes narrowing. "I can do it myself." She snapped. It was the first sign of strength she had shown since she had woken up.

Theon allowed the corner of his lips twitch upwards, she was coming back to herself. He gave her the cup, his hands lingering over hers for a few seconds, making sure she was steady enough to hold it. When he was certain she would be fine he stood up. He picked a blanket and a pillow that had been on the floor next to the bed and propped them up behind her. "Here lean against these, you'll be more comfortable and I won't have to worry about you falling over."

It wasn't long before the water in Arya's cup was drained. She knew she probably should have drank it slowly, but once the wetness of the water hit her tongue she couldn't help but gulp it all down. Maybe she wouldn't upset her stomach too badly because there wasn't a whole lot of water in the tiny cup. She wanted more and was about to voice her request when she looked down thoughtfully at the cup. Memories of what had happened in the alley when she had been abducted were still muddled. She remembered being with Theon just before she was hit over the head. He was now the only person with her when she woke up. She looked up at him carefully, her eyes full of suspicion. "What have you done to me?"

His eyes narrowed. There was a momentary flash of hurt, followed by anger, that finally faded into resignation. Even though he probably deserved her mistrust, he was hurt that she would think that he would resort to poison and trickery in order to kidnap her. He shook his head and looked down at his boots in the dim light.

"I didn't do anything to you. I was poisoned. From the bump I felt on your head after I woke up I think they knocked you out cold." He said a bit petulantly. He raised his eyes to look at her. He watched as she raised a hand to feel the back of her head to see if she could feel the injury. He knew there was nothing and he waited for her to comment, to accuse him of lying to her. When she didn't, his eyes softened a bit and he went on with his explanations. "That was days ago, the lump has gone down. You've been in and out of consciousness since then. I don't think it was anything our abductors did, I think it was more that your stab wound became infected. I swear to you I had nothing to do with this."

Arya watched him as best she could in the dim light, a of memory surfaced of him pulling a dart from the back of his neck and him crumbling to the ground. His last words to her seemed earnest enough. So she simply nodded her head to show that she believed him. Then she pulled her gaze away from him to study the room their abductors had stored them. "Where are we?"

Theon shrugged his shoulders. "The best I can tell is that they took us out of Braavos, probably on some farmstead near the city, but not actually in the city. I wasn't conscious when they brought us here. I think they want to take us somewhere else, but with you being sick they didn't want to risk any further travel."

"Who is _they_?" "Arya asked as she held out her cup for more water.

He picked up the pitcher and poured her another cup. "They won't tell me. They don't say much of anything really, they patched you up." He nodded to her stomach as he set the jug back down. "Then they left the rest of the nursing to me. They've kept me supplied with herbs to keep the wound clean and to fight the infection. They've given me food and water. Other than that they keep us locked up. I know they are anxious to leave this place, they keep asking when you'll be ready to travel. Now that you're up and your fever has broken I have a feeling they'll move us soon."

Arya's eyes drifted over to the stairs, "didn't you try to get away?" It was the first thing she would have done if she had been conscious. She would have found a way to overpower the captors or found a way to break out of the room.

"Of course not." He looked at her intently. "I would have had to leave you behind." Did she really think he could have done that to her? Then he felt his lips turn downward in a frown. There was a time when he probably would have left her, when he would have only thought of himself. Sure, he might have felt faint twinges of guilt about it, like he had when he had decided betray Robb. But that was before. "I left Robb to his fate, I have a lot to make up for, I'm not going to do that to you." He wondered how many times he was going to have to say that to her, and to himself.

She looked back to see his intense gaze. To her surprise she felt a faint sense of shame, she quickly looked away and down at the cup in her hands. She wasn't sure she would have done the same if he had been the one who had been sick. She probably wouldn't have felt any remorse for leaving him behind either. She was still coming to grips with the fact that this guilt-ridden man before her was the same boy who had betrayed her family. She should have had no qualms about leaving him behind. Now, looking at him and realizing what he had done for her, she felt guilty for what she might have done. "Oh," was all she could bring herself to say. In her fever addled mind she seemed to have forgotten that she saved him once already when she drew the Waif away from him and Lady Crane.

"And, they took our weapons so there wasn't much that could aide me in my escape." Theon continued. There remained an uncomfortable silence for a few moments before Theon needed to fill it again with words. "Its odd though, they let me keep my coin." He reached for the pouch of coins he kept, hefted it in his hands to let her hear the jingle of the metal inside. "You would think they would have liked to keep that for themselves. Still I choose to believe it's a good sign if they didn't rob us. Perhaps they'll let us go when they are done with whatever it is they are going to do with us."

"And what do you think they want to do to us, exactly?" She still couldn't bring herself to look at him. So she leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

Theon tried to ignore the discomfort of the whole situation. He realized he was going to have to live with the fact that this girl might always hate him. She had every right to feel that way. "Your guess is as good as mine. We're of noble birth, my lady. If someone recognized us and thought to bring us back to Westeros, they would probably find a whole score of people willing pay good money for a Stark or a Greyjoy."

She let out a little exasperated huff at his words as she opened her eyes to give him a sharp glare. "Think, stupid." She said. "How long have we been here?"

"I don't know, a few days?" He matched her glare. Memories of their childhood and hearing that same tone of voice she used when she was annoyed with Sansa, her brothers, and on rare occasion even himself seemed to have broke the tension that had been simmering between them. Part of the old Theon asserted itself within him.

"And you said we've been in this this room the whole time?" She asked, looking at him as if he was the thickest person alive.

He let out a bit of a sigh, expressing his annoyance. He gave her a patronizing smile. "And?"

"You said they are anxious to leave. If they were going to take us to Westeros, they would have put us on a boat. They would have wanted us off the shores of Essos as quickly as possible. I could have healed just as easily on the way to Westeros. Instead we're on solid ground away from Braavos. They aren't taking us home." She said plainly.

That seemed to give him pause. She had a point. He had been so worried about how he was going to keep this little wolf girl safe and alive that he had lost sight of some vital information. "Oh." Was all he could say and he knew it sounded stupid. Then he finally brought his face back up to hers, a smirk playing upon his lips. "If you're so smart, then tell me, Arya Underfoot, just where in the Seven Hells are they taking us?"

Her face soured at the old nickname, but she let it slide. It reminded her of home and the smile he flashed her reminded her of the old Theon. The Theon she had known as a child at Winterfell, somber one she had met in Braavos. "How in the Seven Hells would I know?" She snapped more harshly than she had intended. Seeing him like that, like the Theon he had been at Winterfell was almost like a slap in the face. It brought back the pain of what had happened to her family. It reminded her of his betrayal, and she knew she wasn't ready yet to forgive him.

"I don't know, it seems you have an answer to everything." He pointed out.

She opened her mouth, and he knew she was about to respond with some sharp comment, but she was inturrpted by a loud growl coming form her stomach. He felt his lips twitch and he was about to let out a small chuck. Then he caught the look in her eyes that said she would murder him if he even thought about mocking her weakness with a laugh. He choose to surpress the chuckle. "We shouldn't bicker, I should have known you'd be hungry." He stood up slowly, "I was able to feed you some broth when you were lucid enough while you fought the fever, but I'm sure it wasn't enough."

Without another word he went to the door of their room. He knocked sharply on the wood. There was muffled response. Their captors didn't open the door, but they were able to have a muffled conversation that consisted of Theon telling them that Arya was awake and needed food. Then when they heard footsteps walking away from the door, Theon made his way back to her bed.

He sat back down and looked at her carefully. "They'll be back in a few minutes with some soup. You're probably not ready for anything more substantial." He said quietly. "They haven't given us any names by which to call them, but it's usually the short, stocky one that comes with the food. As I said before he doesn't talk much, but I'm sure you can try to ask him your questions. Who knows maybe they'll talk to you."

She frowned at him, "I'll probably get more out of them than you did." She said, she was trying to keep her annoyance with him high. She didn't want to let herself feel the smallest amount of companionship for him, even if he had saved her life in Braavos and seemed to be taking care of her now. He had been Robb's friend too once, and look at how that turned out.

He sighed in resignation. He supposed he didn't need her trust. It would be enough that she was speaking to him. At least he knew exactly where he stood with her. He looked up as he heard the door open, then leaned forward and took the cup from out of her hands. She was about to protest, just to be contrary and then realized that she would need to have her hands free if she was to eat any of the food that was offered her.

Theon had been right it was the short, stout man that had broughta tray of food, and placed it on the rickety table when Theon removed the water jug to make room. At first Arya didn't give much notice to the man as her stomach rumbled again in hunger. The meal was simple, there was a soup that seemed to be more broth than anything else. She did see a few vegetables floating near the top. There was a small pear and a cup of what she supposed was a watered down wine. It was the perfect meal for someone who was just recovering from sickness. She only looked up when she felt the intent gaze of the stranger upon her.

The man didn't smile when Arya looked at him. His facial expression was gruff, and his tone was even gruffer, but she thought his eyes could be kind; if they didn't belong to someone who had kidnapped her. "You look better. Don't know if you're well enough to travel, but I guess that don't matter. We leave tomorrow morning."

"She's not well enough to ride, she needs a few more days…" Theon had started but then trailed off when the man shook his head adamantly.

"She ain't gonna have to ride." He said. "We got a wagon and she can rest on the back of that. We weren't gonna let the two of you ride by yourselves anyway. We've been warned that the two of you might be slippery, try to escape. We're prepared."

"Where are you taking us anyway?" Arya asked studying to see if the man looked familiar to her. He was very nondescript. If she had met him before she did not remember.

"Can't say." He answered.

"Who are you working for?" Theon asked.

The man looked from Arya to Theon, then back to Arya. "I'm sure you'll get all your answers when we get to where we're going. As it is, I don't know much about what's in store for the two of you, and it ain't my job to ask nor answer questions. So there is no use in asking them." With that said he started for the door. "Just try to get some rest before we leave. We'll be traveling for a bit." Then he marched out of the room without even a second glance.

Once the door was closed, Theon moved to the tray of food and handed the soup to Arya. For a few moments neither of them said anything, until finally he asked, "did you recognize him at all?"

After a couple of bites, Arya shook her head, when her mouth was empty she spoke. "No, what makes you think I would know who he was."

Theon shrugged noncommittally, "I thought maybe this whole thing might have something to do with the person who tried to kill you in Braavos."

Arya felt a grim smile touch her lips. "I told you I took care of that. Besides those people don't really deal in kidnapping."

Theon was exasperated. It was obvious Arya didn't know who their abductors were, but she did know who had tried to kill her, and he was still curious about that. "Took care of it how? And who are they, anyway?"

She let out a small sigh. She had promised him answers, and now would be a good a time as any to fill him in on what her time in Braavos was like. "Have you ever heard of the Faceless Men?"

He blinked at her, his face a perfect mask of shock. Of course he had heard of the Faceless Men. But the stories he had heard of the assassins seemed almost mythic. Half of the things he had heard about he had doubted to be truth. Even still, he felt himself shudder. When they were paid to kill someone, that person always wound up dead, somehow. He let out a low whistle. "How did you get cought up in them? They aren't after you, are they?"

"No." She said simply. "Not now, anyway."

"You're going to have to explain that a little bit more." He said a bit apprehensively. "Did someone pay to have you killed?"

She shook her head. "Of course not. I just decided that the assassin's life was not for me. I refused to kill someone they told me to kill and they didn't like that."

"Hold, you were one of them? You were a faceless man?"

Arya laughed a little. "No, I was training to become one." She took another bite of her soup, clearly enjoying the reaction she was getting out of him.

"How?" He blinked at her incredulously.

"That's a bit of a story."

"We have time." He said pointedly.

She nodded her head to show that she understood. "In Westeros, before I left, I saved one of their assassin's lives. He, in turn helped me and some friends escape a tough spot." She was being purposefully vague. She wasn't ready to share all that went on at Harrenhal and her time traveling with the Night Watch recruiter. She was ashamed of some of the things that happened during those times, and she wasn't ready to talk about those things, especially with Theon. Instead she kept her tone light. "Before we parted ways, this assassin gave me an iron coin and said if I was ever in Braavos I should seek him out. Eventually that led me to the House of Black and White." After this she quieted and focused on eating.

"So you left Westeros." Theon prompted when it seemed obvious she wouldn't continue.

"So I left Westeros, eventually." Arya confirmed, "that was after that damned wedding at the Twins. That was after I found out Lysa Arryn was dead, and whatever family I had left was lost or dead. That was after I realized I had no where else to go to, no home to travel too." She said pointedly.

Theon looked down at his hands, knowing that her home was gone because of him. He had tried to say sorry before. It was only now that he realized that no words of apology would ever be enough, so he didn't try to say them to her again. She finished her soup, while he sat silently in his guilt. It was no less then he deserved, and she would say no more until he was ready to talk again. Finally when he did, he said nothing about what he had done at Winterfell, instead, he asked, "you said that you left the Faceless Men, that the assassin's life wasn't for you and you did not follow their orders. They tried to kill you because of it, you say you took care of them, but how do you know they truly let you go?"

"I killed the assassin they sent after me." Arya said evenly.

He looked up at her, there was shock in his eyes.

She felt a smug, arrogant smile rise on her lips, at Theon's face. "You knew I was never a lady. I don't faint at the sight of blood." She said with a shrug. "She wasn't the first person I killed, and I doubt she will be the last."

He shook his head, as if trying to wrap his mind around the fact that the little girl from Winterfell could be a trained killer. "I thought that Faceless Men always killed their targets."

"Just trust me, they will not bother us anymore. I killed the girl and talked to the man who trained me. I am safe from them." She shrugged, "unless someone pays them to assassinate me or you, I doubt we'll see them again."

"That makes me feel better." Theon muttered, them more clearly. "But that leaves the mystery of who kidnapped us."

"Yes, I suppose it does." She agreed. "But I'm more interested in how we're going to get ourselves out of this predicament."

"You're still in no condition to make an escape attempt." Theon stated plainly.

She looked down to her stomach and winced. It was true, there was still a dull pain in her abdomen, and she felt weak. She wouldn't be able to make a fast getaway, even with Theon's help. "You're right." She paused a moment. "But they are going to be moving us, and he did say that we would be on the road for some time. It would be easier to escape while traveling anyway."

"So we bide our time until you're better?"

"And wait for an opportunity. Depending on where they are taking us, there is sure to be towns along the way. If we find a one big enough we could even hide ourselves in a crowd."

Theon stared at her for a moment, wondering when she would be strong enough or if they would ever find the perfect moment. But it was the only plan that was fiesable, the only one that came to mind. Perhaps in the morning they would see a clearer path. So, he just nodded his head, then took the empty bowl from hands. "We should sleep now." He said grudgingly. "We both need our strength." He could see the fatigue she felt in her eyes. She only nodded her head once to show that she agreed. "Here," he said gently as he took away the remnants of the meal she had just eaten and stood up. He walked the empty tray and placed it by the side of the door.

When he walked back to the bed she was arranging herself to lay down. With out a word he took the extra pillow and blanket he had given to her earlier. He carefully arranged the blanket and pillow into a bed of his own on the floor next to hers. Then, before he hunkered down into it, he looked to her and she looked back at him wearily. She did not say good night but she nodded in away that he took to mean that she was ready to sleep. He put out the candle and then by feel found the bit of floor that he used to sleep on.

It was several minutes later when Arya did say something. She had just remembered something, "Theon?" she asked hesitantly.

"Yes?" He asked sounding as if he was wide awake.

"Do you know if they took Mouser too?" She had remembered that the cat had been in the alley with them when they were taken.

It took a moment to realize what it was she was talking about. "That cat?" He had not even thought about the animal in the time they had been in the farm house.

"Yes," she said with just a hint of exasperation.

"I don't know." He said and he could almost feel the disappointment roll off of her. "I have not seen her. But that does not mean anything. The only part of this building I've seen is this room" He remembered how smart the cat seemed to be. "Even if they didn't take her. She could have followed you here." He tried to sound reassuring, he wasn't sure it worked.

"Maybe." She said quietly, and then said nothing else as she drifted off to sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's note:** Sorry this took forever guys. I've been kind of at a stand still creatively wise. But I have not given up on this story. I won't promise to do better, but I will promise to at least try. To one of my anon. guests that said they were emotionally invested in this story, just know that I am too and I will continue to write it even if it takes awhile to get updated. Thank you to those who are sticking with it!

 **Chapter 8**

The next day their captors woke them up early, the sky was still dark when Theon glanced out the small window. They must have known that getting Arya up and ready to travel would take time. She, of course, refused any help getting dressed, and had stubbornly made Theon turn his back to her, even though she was only slipping on trousers and a shirt over her small clothes. He wisely chose not to mention that he had already seen her in much less as he nursed her back to health. Instead he gave her the illusion of privacy and stared at the wall while she struggled to make herself presentable.

"Are you okay?" He had been staring at the same spot on the wall for the past ten minutes when he heard a labored gasp from behind him.

She grimaced. "I'm fine. Just struggling to stand up."

"Are you sure you don't need help?" He asked again, managing to hide his amusement behind a tone of concern.

"Just give me a moment." She reached out to put her hand on the table in order to steady herself. She took several deep breaths. The pain in her stomach was not much, but her legs were weak and her body still felt run down after the fever. Taking a moment to make sure her voice sounded stronger than she felt, she said, "okay you can look now."

Theon turned to her and even in the candle light he could tell how pale she was. Dressing herself had taken its toll. The girl was too stubborn for her own good. He stepped forward, offering his hand. "You can lean against me if you have too."

Her eyes flashed a momentary look of defiance. "I can manage on my own," she said coldly.

His lips formed a straight line as he tampered down his annoyance. "Pride isn't going to do you any good here." He hissed. "You can tell these men are in a hurry. What do you think they might do to you if you slow them down."

"Nothing." Arya countered, "they've wasted too much time and effort to keep us alive risk hurting us now."

"That may be true." Theon admitted. "But your dignity would suffer a whole lot more if they simply picked you up and carried you, don't you you think?"

Her eyes narrowed at him, but he could tell that he had given her something to think about. She said nothing, instead she grabbed his wrist in an iron grip and straightened up so she stood all the way, "come on then." And hesitantly took a step forward.

Theon carefully walked her to the door. It took less time than he thought it would, as with each step she took she gained more confidence and strength. When they reached the door, he knocked soundly and seconds later it opened to a taller man, who was thin and gangly with a nasty scare down the side of his face. There was a cunning look about him and the way he moved seemed as if he would be quick as lightening. Theon thought that he would be difficult to get away from if they tried to make their escape.

"You're ready?" He asked wearily.

Theon nodded. He cast a glance to Arya as she let go of his wrist. She seemed okay to walk on her own. When she caught his glance she gave him a grim smile to let him know she did not need his help anymore, that she didn't want to seem weak in front of this man.

As the man led them down the hall she did alright. She walked slowly, but steadily, at least until they came to the steep, narrow staircase. Without so much as a word, Theon reached for her elbow to help steady her. She stiffened slightly, but then without breaking a stride she carefully stepped down the first stair, and then another and so on until they reached the bottom. When she stepped off the last one, Theon dropped his hand, knowing that she didn't want more help from him than was necessary. She gave no thank you, nor did he expect one.

When they were finally outside, they stood in the grey light of predawn for several minutes and than a wagon rode up and stopped in front of them. There were two men sitting up front, one to drive and one that hopped down and stood before Theon and Arya. He seemed to give them an appraising eye. When he was done he shrugged his shoulders as if he didn't understand what made the two of them so important. He turned away and walked towards the back of the wagon. He motioned for the two of them to follow.

"It will go a lot easier if you simply do as your told." He said conversationally."

Theon looked down to Arya, and saw that her jaw had set stubbornly, as if she would give objection, simply because she could, not that she thought it would do any good. He forced himself not to give a resigned sigh, and when she looked up at him, he shook his head to tell her not to do anything foolish. He whispered. "Remember what we decided last night, we go along with what they want." He took a few steps toward the man and then relaxed when he heard her move to follow.

When they reached the back of the wagon, Arya frowned. She was unsure of how she would climb into the wagon. The back was open, so at least she did not have to climb over a side to get into the bed, but it was still several feet off the ground and she simply didn't have the strength to climb in. Even worse, was the fact that she would have to ask for help.

She was about to swallow her pride when she felt a firm grip take her by the waist. She craned her neck to see who it was that held her. Her eyes widened when she realized it was Theon. He greeted her look with a small, knowing smirk. He knew why she hesitated to get in and had taken away the need for her to ask for help. She almost let a smile touch her lips, but caught herself just as he hefted her up and onto the wagon. Seconds later he climbed in after her.

She looked about and saw there was a small stack of supplies for their trip. It hadn't been much and that indicated to her that they would be stopping periodically during their trip to buy more food for themselves and the horses. There was a pile of blankets, she supposed were meant for her comfort on the road so she could rest. This is where she lowered herself to sit down and Theon followed suit. Curiously Arya noticed an iron peg that had been driven into the wooden floor of the wagon, on the top part of that peg there was a closed circle of iron attached to it.

After she they were situated, the man who had escorted them out of the farm house, jumped up on the wagon bed and dropped something that rattled on the wooden floor. Arya turned to look and saw the rattling came from chains that he had carried in one hand and then another thud proved to be the sack he had been holding. The man gave her a wan smile. "Can't be too careful, can we." He lifted up one shackle, than said, "come on dearie, hold out your foot."

Arya frowned, took one glance at Theon and saw that he was just as unhappy about this development as she was. But again, what choice did they have? Chances of escape were beginning to look slimmer.

When the chain was securely around her ankle, the man looked expectantly at Theon, reluctantly he allowed a chain to clank closed around his own ankle. After that the man attached the chains to the iron link that had been driven into the wagon floor. "There you go, you got some freedom of movement, but all nice and snug with no way of gettin' out." The man said. He hefted up the bag that he had placed down before and carelessly let it spill open. The sack opened just enough for Arya to see the familiar hilt of Needle peeking out.

Without thinking she let a sharp hiss of air through her teeth. The man looked down to the bag and saw that it had opened. He looked at Arya and knew that she had seen the sword that she had carried in Baavos. He quickly covered it up again and then offered her a small smile. "Right then, I'll just be bringing this up front with me and the driver for safe keeping." He easily hopped back to the ground and then nodded the other man who stood next to him. "You ride in back with them." Then he made his way around to the front of the wagon.

The other man hopped on back and let feet dangle over the edge while Arya and Theon attempted to make themselves more comfortable amongst the blankets.

Just as they were settling, the man who sat with them let out a startled yell. "What's that?" He said, his voice tinged with amusement, "where did you come from?"

Arya looked down and saw a little ball of fuzz standing near the lip of the wagon next to the man. "Mouser!" Arya let out a small cry of surprise. The cat ducked under the captor's hand as he reached out to grab her, and then darted to Arya's waiting lap. Arya gently stroked Mouser's fur and she gave a hard look to the man, who watched the interaction and was obviously still amused. "The cat comes with." She said cooly.

The man in the back looked up behind Arya to the driver of the wagon. The commotion behind him must have caught his attention and he turned to look at what had caused it. Arya noted that the other two seemed to defer to this man. He must be the leader. The driver grunted noncommittally and shrugged his shoulders to show that he didn't care either which way.

"It looks like you can keep it." The man in the back said. "Just make sure it stays out of the way." Then he turned around to pay attention to the view behind them. "We can get movin'," he called to the driver; soon they were rattling down the dusty road leaving the old farm house behind.

When Arya was sure that their captors weren't paying to close attention to them and the noise from the horses clop and the wagon wheels creaking, She whispered to Theon. "We at least know one thing. They have our weapons with them. I saw Needle in that bag he was carrying." That, at least, would give them some hope. If they could get their hands on those weapons, it would give them a chance at freedom.

—

Arya, Theon, and their three captors were on the road for about an hour when the man who was riding in back, offered them a bit of bread and water in which they could break their fast. Arya just offered him stony look. She was uncomfortable, the jostling of the wagon made her head ache and the stab wound at her stomach twinge with pain every time the wheels hit a particularly big rut. She was also cold, despite blankets that covered her, thankfully it was not the chills of a fever but of being in the early morning air.

However, Theon moved to take up the food. When he settled back down beside Arya, he offered her a pointed look. "Eat." He commanded. "It isn't much, but you need to keep up your strength." He offered her both his share and her own. She needed it more than he did.

The man who rode in back took looked over his shoulder at them. He had a mouth full of his own breakfast when he spoke to them. "Ye'll get a bit more for your mid day meal, and an even better meal when we break camp later tonight. Bread'll do you for now." The words may have been rough, but his tone was not. It almost sounded as if he felt sorry for their lack of decent food.

Theon shrugged, baffled by their captors, sometimes they were rough and hard edged, at other times they almost seemed polite. "We'll eat what you give us." He muttered, then looked sideways at Arya. "Right?"

To answer him, she took a bite of the bread that was surprisingly fresh. Still, she could barely taste it. It felt like sawdust in her mouth, but Theon was right she needed her strength. Everyone rode in silence after they were fed. Theon promptly fell sleep while in a seated position his back leaning against the low wall of the wagon. The driver and the man who sat next to him grunted a few words to one another every so often but mostly they were quiet too. The man who sat in back would cast a glance toward Arya and Theon every so often, but mostly he kept his eyes in the direction from which they came from. Arya was perfectly okay with that, it gave her a chance to think and to study the countryside around her as they traveled.

After a few hours, the driver and the man who set next to him seemed to have a brief discussion and when it ended the driver came to a stop at the side of the road. The man who rode in back hopped off the wagon and then looked back to the two of them. "Looks like we're stopped for our mid day meal. We'll have something warmed up to eat after I get the fire going. How's your pain?" He asked of Arya.

"It's fine," she muttered. "At least it's tolerable. I don't need anything to dull it if that's what your asking. I'd rather keep my wits about me."

The man shrugged. "Suit yourself, I'm sure you'll be comfortable here while we cook up something." With that he grabbed the supplies he needed and the other two men also vacated the wagon to help start a fire.

Now that they were left on their, Theon felt they could speak a bit more freely. Every so often one of their captors would look back to see how their charges were doing, but they didn't seem overly concerned about the two of them trying to escape. They were after all chained. Theon looked to Arya and saw that her eyes stayed on the bag one of the men carried and he realized that must be where they were keeping their weapons. He nodded in that direction. "That stick is important to you isn't it." He couldn't help but laugh the blade she loved so well. It was small and skinny, but he supposed it suited her.

She cast him a withering glare. "It is."

"Did your father give it to you?" Theon asked. He thought maybe Lord Stark had given it to her when they were in King's Landing. It would explain why she loved it so well that she was willing to take a chance to try to get it back.

"No." She said sharply. There was a tense silence that followed that simple word. It seemed to stretch on for minutes. Suddenly the quiet made her uncomfortable and she wanted to talk, of things that reminded her of home. Even if it was to someone she considered a traitor. She finally relented. "Jon gave it to me, before I left Winterfell. It was a sort of a good bye gift. I guess." She said awkwardly.

"Oh." It was all Theon could think of to say. That meant that Mikken had forged the steel. If he searched his memory, he remembered that Jon Snow had been spending a lot of time with the smith when King Robert had visited Winterfell. Even thoughts of Eddard Stark's bastard brought him shame. He had always been rude, or even cruel to the boy. Perhaps because he felt that Jon Snow was beneath him, being the bastard that he was. _Seven Hells,_ he thought _, I was so stupid._ But at least Jon was safe, and alive, although probably miserable on the Wall.

Theon's heart thudded. Mikken was not alright though. Mikken had died. He was one of the unlucky few who did not survive Theon's attack on Winterfell. The guilt that had started to ebb away was seeping its way back into his thoughts. What would the girl siting across from him think of him when he told her the details about what happened at Winterfell?

Arya had been studying him. Her eyes narrowed as she saw his whole demeanor turn into something broken. She recognized the look, it was how she thought she might look when no one was looking. She pushed the sympathy she was starting to feel for him away, she had a feeling she knew what it was that that brought his guilt back. They were talking about home, about Winterfell and Jon and what Jon had given to her. He was probably thinking about what he done to Winterfell.

"What happened to him?"

He looked up at her questioningly but said nothing.

"It was Mikken you were thinking about, wasn't it? He made my Needle, and he was there when you declared yourself _Prince_ of Winterfell. Did he survive your invasion?" She asked bitterly.

He had no right to lie to her, to spare himself pain. He would answer her, even if it meant that whatever little trust was starting of form between them was shattered. "No."

She noticed that he didn't try to explain away his actions. That counted for something, she supposed. But she also noticed that he failed to tell her exactly what it was that happened to Winterfells blacksmith. Not that what happened to him in the end really mattered, not how he died. All that mattered was that he was dead and that it was Theon's fault.

But she did want explanations. Maybe not the details about what happened, she didn't need to hear about the Iron Born's butchery. She had heard enough stories about that. No, she wanted explanations as to why he had done what he did in the first place. Why did he betray Robb? Why did he take the castle that had been her home? He said he didn't burn it, but he had still taken it from her family. But she did not ask her questions. She wasn't sure she was ready for the answers. If she happened to find some sort of understanding in the answers he provided, she definitely wasn't ready to offer him the tiniest bit of forgiveness. She doubted she would ever be ready for that.

Instead she opted to find out the smallest detail. "Did you kill him, personally, I mean?"

He said nothing for several minutes. "No. Not like I killed Ser Rodrik. But it was still my fault he died, it was my men that killed Mikken." His voice was low and scratchy as if admitting it to her hurt him personally.

 _Good_ she thought to herself. She watched him as he fiddled with a stray thread that hung from his cloak and noted that he wouldn't look at her. He was suffering. She had a feeling he would hold that guilt for the rest of his life. Then it hit her. She would suffer too, for the things that she had done. Even if her crimes were not as awful as his, she would feel guilt too, even when she tried to pretend she didn't. Oddly, because of this thought, she couldn't bring herself to be overly cruel to him. He looked broken, and because she was broken too she didn't know how to offer him any comfort. Finally she let out a resigned sigh. "You're such a shit, Theon Greyjoy." She didn't say it unkindly, more like an observation.

"Yeah. I know." It was almost gentle the way she talked to him. He was grateful for it. She could have been so much worse and he would have taken it. It wasn't anything he wouldn't have deserved. It was strange to have this tough little girl give him so much mercy . He doubted she even realized that she was being kind to him.

"I cannot forgive you for what you did." She said.

This was no surprise for Theon. He would never again ask her to forgive him. Then offered her a self-deprecating smile. "I cannot forgive myself, my lady."

"You know better than to call me that."

"And what is it am I to call you then."

"Arya. It's my name. I'm not a lady, nor are you a lord, not anymore ar least, we don't have to be polite to each other."

"And you don't have to treat me as a child. You can say to me whatever want. I know what you're thinking, and I know that you have much to say about what I did. Go-"

"Theon, shut up." She did not say this in anger. She had none of that to give him at the moment. Her head ache was back and she was tired "I don't want to talk about any of this." There would be a time for that later, she knew she would have to hear his full story eventually, but for now she needed rest.

—

They did not linger after they had eaten. Their captors seemed eager to continue and during the second half of the day their pace was quicker than the morning. They made no stops at the small towns they had passed and as the sun got lower in the sky even the towns were becoming more and more sparse. Arya and Theon kept quiet through most of the journey, talking only when Theon asked how she was feeling physically.

Before it became full dark the wagon finally came to a stop at a roadside campsite. There was a fire pit and the ground was worn smooth by other people who had used the same area. Not far off was a creek that could be used to wash away the dirt of traveling and for drinking. Their captors seemed to be familiar with the place. The men knew the best places to look for kindling and it wasn't long before they had a fire started. When that was done, and one of them went about cooking their dinner, the taller man found his way back to the wagon.

"Well, we figured we're far enough away from any village for you to run off." The tall, gangly man said. "You don't have much of anywhere to go if you try to get away." He hopped onto the bed of the wagon and moved to their chained ankles. "We'll let you free for a couple hours before bed." He bent over with a key and unlocked, first Arya's chain, then Theon's.

Arya looked first at Theon, than at the tall man who was now exiting the wagon, than back to Theon. With her eyes she seemed to be asking him if he thought it would be safe to follow the man's lead or if he thought it was some sort of trick. Theon shrugged his shoulders, then stiffly stood up. He allowed his body to stretch out fully and then offered a hand to Arya to help her up. She briefly thought about ignoring him, but then realized it would be foolish not to take it. She was sore and tired, she would look even more foolish if she fell onto her face while she tried to stand.

Once Arya was on her feet, Theon whispered to her, "let me go first." He held on to her hand, just in case she needed to use him to help steady her steps, and led her to the lip of the wagon. He let go of her hand and then gingerly jumped off the back. When his feet hit the ground he winced a little at the pain of landing on them after sitting in a confined space for a the whole day. He turned around and looked up at Arya and saw a flash of panic in her eyes as she realized she would have to jump down too. "Come on, I'll help you." He said.

Relunctantly she nodded her agreement. Theon reached up and gently rested his hands on waist, tightening only when he had to lift her up, and then lower her to the rough dirt outside the wagon. For a moment neither of them moved. He looked down at her, and noticed she had her eyes closed and a faint furrow in her brow. "Are you alright?" He asked.

She opened her eyes. There was a small shock at his close proximity, and he must have seen the surprise in her eyes and known what had caused it. He quickly dropped his hands from her and took a step back. She let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding and nodded her head. "I'm fine. Just getting used to being on my feet again." She then started slowly toward the kidnappers and the supper they had made. It occurred to her that she was thankful for fact that her back was now turned away from Theon. He would not be able to see that her expression still held confusion. She had come to the conclusion that she was getting used to being around him. When she had been closer to him than normal she didn't not feel that gut wrenching anger and hate she had thought she would. She wouldn't say that she felt comfortable with him, but it did not feel _uncomfortable._ She wasn't entirely sure how she felt about that. Was she not supposed to hate him?

Thankfully these jumbled thoughts were interrupted when Mouser came out of hiding and leaped off the back of the wagon to their feet. She had been hiding while they traveled and was now ready to stretch her own paws when she realized they had stopped. Arya smiled as she looked down to the cat. "Go on, just make sure you're back before we leave." She watched with a smile as the cat padded away.

—

The dinner they had been given was, as promised, much better than their other meals had been that day. There was even meat in the savory stew one of the men had made. It was salty and tough, as if it had been cured for travel but in all it was tasty and Arya's body seemed to crave the nourishment it provided. The meal as a whole had been strangely pleasant, the men were surprisingly friendly. They had even allowed Arya and Theon to know their names, the driver and leader had been Sallan, the friendlier man who sat in the back of the wagon with them was Haren, and the surlier one gave the name Gyllan.

Arya did not trust that these were their real names. They had no reason to tell those, but at least she had a name for each of their faces. As she learned each name, she pondered if she would add them to her list of people she wanted to kill, only to realize that she never had an intention of doing so. These men, though they had captured her, had done nothing to harm her. That wasn't to say that she liked them, she of course did not. They had after all stolen the freedom she had so recently gained from the House of Black and White. But she did not hate them in the same way that she hated Cersei Lannister.

When supper was done, they allowed the two of them a bit more freedom of movement to which Arya was thankful. The walking they let her do seemed to bring back more of the strength that her muscles had lost during her convalescence. Once they were refreshed the night was dark and Sallan said it was time for them to get back to the wagon.

"We won't be goin' on any further tonight of course." Haren said cheerfully, it fell to him to bring them back to get them settled. "But the two of you will be better off on the wagon. There are blankets and it'll be better there than on the cold, hard ground." They followed him back willingly enough. "The rest of us will have to contend with lumpy bits of earth by the fire." This time when they reached the wagon, Arya managed to crawl on by herself, Theon followed, and then Haren let out a hesitant sigh. "I'm of course going to chain the two of you again."

Arya looked about the cramped wagon bed and felt a nervous tug in her stomach and suddenly an irrational fear came into her heart. She supposed it was her conflicted feelings towards the man she would have to be sleeping next to, while being chained, no less. These feelings of gratitude, hate and guilt all riled up inside of her of course made her edgy. The thought of sleeping next to him did nothing to calm those feelings. So of course her tongue lashed out before she could control it.

"No." She stated firmly, the pitch of her voice rose enough to let both her Haren and Theon know that she was not happy. "I will not be chained up at night, alone, with _him."_

"You don't have much of a choice." Haren said "It's true there's no one around for leagues and of course you're not up to your full strength yet." He shrugged his shoulders. "But come now, you can't really expect us to give you complete freedom. We aren't that stupid."

"I won't do it." Arya said stubbornly. She knew she was being irrational. She supposed there were many reasons why she was on edge. She was tired, and still a bit weak, but mostly it came down to her being _nervous_ about Theon. "I will not sleep next to this… this traitor. Do you realize what he has done? Do you realize…"

"What is it you think I'm going to do to you." Theon cut in, his voice mingled with both anger and hurt. He knew he deserved the word traitor, it was what he was. He would not lie to himself. But he did not deserve the veiled accusations that she seemed to be throwing his way.

She turned her attention back on him, her mind raced to search for some accusation to throw at him, something that would make sense in the confused mess of her mind. "I know what it is you used to do to girls in the past at Winterfell when they entered your bed. I wouldn't take the chance that you would do so with me given the-"

Any hurt he felt melted away and only anger raged through him. This was something he didn't deserve, and he thought that maybe she was only saying the words to hurt him. He would in no way force himself upon her, even if they were alone in the middle of no where. He was not that much of a monster, especially after everything he had done to her family. He may have used his position in the past to have his way with women, but they were always willing. "Have no fear of that, Lady Arya." His tone was cool. He allowed his eyes to wander over her body, obviously as if he were inspecting it in the star light. He would have been lying if he hadn't noticed the changes in her since she had left Winterfell. The girl had grown up, and she was more woman now than child, and all the features that came with womanhood. And for the first time he was aware that she had a certain something about her that wasn't unpleasing to look at. But he would never admit that to her, especially now. "You are most definitely not the type of woman I would choose to bed. Your virtue is safe with me."

Her eyes widened in embarrassment, not just because of the insult he had hurled at her in front of someone else, but because she was behaving stupidly. In the dim light Theon could tell her mouth was open in an embarrassed 'o' and thought it was only because of what he had said. The fact that he had hurt her seemed to please him, in some petty way. With that said he plopped down on the blankets they had given them held out his ankle and waited for Haren to chain him. While the man fumbled with the chain, Theon glowered up at Arya, and she hid her true feelings so she could return his glare. To her dismay she was the first to lower her gaze, and then she too sat down and held her ankle out to Haren.

Haren let out a small chuckle as he placed the shackle around her ankle. Then he stood up and walked to the end of the wagon. "Well now that that's taken care of, I'll bid you two goodnight. Try to get some sleep, we've traveled well today. And we will tomorrow as well. If things go well it won't take us long until we're at our destination" He then hopped out and walked away without waiting for them to reply. Arya watched as he took his seat by the fire to talk with his two companions.

Arya could not bring herself to look at her own companion, while she felt shame at how she acted, Theon's comment about her appearance needled her. Growing up at Winterfell and then later in King's Landing she had always ignored when people commented on the way she looked. She knew she was no great beauty. It had never bothered her. It was odd that Theon's casual dig at her looks stung so much. Without a word she fumbled with the blankets, trying to make the wagon a more comfortable place to sleep. She wished that Mouser had found her way back to the wagon, she would have been a distraction against Theon's presence. But she supposed the cat was finding her own dinner and would return later in the night.

Theon pretended to distract himself with making his own bed. The thing was that while he was doing so, he kept casting glances in her direction. The comical aspect of the situation seemed to cool his anger some what, especially as he watched her act like the surly child he had known in Winterfell. When she felt his eyes upon her she turned to look at a him, he quickly drew away his glance and stretched himself out on the makeshift bed and propped the upper half of his body up on his elbows. Arya laid down too, only she made a show of turning her back to him. It was clear she did not want to talk.

"I'm sorry." He murmured. "I didn't mean to embarrass you."

He couldn't see her face, but he heard her scoff and he smiled at just how Arya the response was. "You didn't embarrass me." She said as a matter of fact, then after a few seconds of thought, "But, it's okay, I guess."

Arya heard the rustling of the blankets on his side and she craned her neck to see what it was he was doing. Much to her relief, Theon made a show of moving as far away from her as the cramped space would allow. She found she had to bite her lip to keep from smiling, as she realized he was going to great lengths to show her respect.

They they there quietly, both staring up at the stars, studying their twinkling light. It seemed neither of them were very tired. It would be fair to say that each of their thoughts wandered far and wide in those moments of silence, but eventually Arya's thoughts came back to Theon. She had accepted the fact that she would never leave him behind, he had managed to worm his way back into her life and there was no going forward without him. It was frustrating, all the opposing feelings she had for this boy laying next to her. It was even more frustrating that she realized that none of those feelings she was feeling toward him were in any way murderous.

He was the first to brake the strained silence that had grown. "I would have never touched you, you know. Not the way that you had implied anyway." He paused for a moment, waiting for her to answer. She didn't, either she didn't know how to respond or she simply didn't care. But this was something he felt had to say. "It isn't as if I don't see you as the woman you have become." His words sounded awkward and he cringed inwardly, but he continued, "That's not exactly what I mean." He paused again and then in a sigh of frustration, "I just mean that I would't force myself on anyone. It was never even a thought for me. I've learned from a very young age what my place is. And touching a Stark girl in anyway that could even be construed as inappropriate was not allowed."

"Oh." Was all Arya said. She gave his words some thought, she had heard the bitterness there, it was hard to miss. She frowned at that, she had always thought Theon was treated rather well at Winterfell. It hadn't been until she was older that she realized Theon didn't truly belong there, that he was forced to live there because of the wrongs his father had done. But Theon had never struck her as being particularly unhappy with his station in life. Perhaps when she was a child she had misread him. She turned her body so she look at him and studied his profile trying to reconcile what she had thought when she was a child and what she realized now was the reality. "Is that why you betrayed Robb?" Surprisingly her voice didn't shake in anger or accusation. It was simply a question.

Theon turned to look at her. _How did you answer something like that?_ It wasn't simple, gods he wished it was simple. He wasn't sure he wanted to admit that he had done what he had done because he felt sorry for himself. And in reality that really was what his motive had been. There was no better way to answer that didn't make him seem a childish, arrogant prick. That didn't make him seem like a bad guy.

So he did the only thing he could do, he kept quiet and didn't answer. Gods he must look weak.

Of course Arya wasn't going to let him off so easily. "Did you hate us, Theon? All that time you were with us? It didn't seem like it. I mean, you didn't talk much to me. But you were with Robb all the time. I thought you two were like brothers. And through all of that, did you hate us?" Arya let out a frustrated sigh, as she tried to understand the creature that lay beside her. "I mean, with Cersei Lannister, with Joffery, I could tell that they hated us. Even when they tried to act civil for the sake of appearances, I could see it in their eyes. They hated Father. Joffery hated me. He couldn't hide how he felt. But you…"

"It never seemed like I hated you or your family." Theon finished for her. His heart beat raced, probably because the time had come for him to be honest. Not just with her, but with himself. "I don't think I ever hated you. Nor anyone in your family, especially not Robb. I sometimes thought I did. But I think that's mostly because I thought I should, at least that's how I felt when I was old enough to realize just how fucked up the whole situation was." The last came out more whiny than he intended.

Her eyes narrowed at this to her it seemed he didn't have a right to complain. At least not to her. Most of her family was dead, and she was just about to mention that when she caught herself. Some of his family was dead too. His brothers were dead because of the rebellion that sparked the whole reason for him being at Winterfell. If rumors were to be believed, his father was dead. There was a tiny voice in her head that petulantly said he deserved to feel that pain. But the thing was, that voice that kept saying those opinions was getting smaller and smaller. Since they had been reunited she knew the pain she saw etched on his face during those moments when he thought she wasn't looking had nothing to do with his family. No that pain he was suffering was for the Starks and not just the guilt he bore for what he did to them.

"It still didn't give you a right to claim Winterfell as your own." She said it bluntly. She didn't say it to accuses him or to hurt him, she just stated it as a fact. He didn't have the right to Winterfell, and he shouldn't have rebelled against the Starks.

"I know that." He whispered harshly. "Of course I know that." He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts again. He didn't know what he was doing, and he had a feeling whatever he said here would dictate how his relationship with this angry wolf would go in the future. "When I suggested to Robb that I go to the Iron Islands, I didn't intend to betray him. I actually thought I was going to help him."

Arya could hear the misery in his voice, but she didn't pity him. He needed to feel that guilt. He deserved that guilt. "I suppose this is the part where you tell me your evil father made you do it."

"No." He allowed himself an annoyed glance in her direction. "He did nothing except accuse me of becoming one of you. He made me feel ashamed that I felt any sort of friendship Robb." Theon lowered his whispered voice even lower. "He despised me Arya. I was a disappointment, to him I wasn't even a Greyjoy anymore. How would you have felt if your father looked at you as if you were dead?"

Arya didn't answer at first. Instead she thought of everything she had gone through. Of the things she had been forced to do, of the people she had killed or helped to kill. She thought that maybe her mother and father would have been disappointed in what she had done to survive. And in horror, she thought about what they would have thought if they known that she had been on the cusp of becoming an assassin, killing people even if they did not deserve death. She shook her head as if to clear away those cobwebs.

"I don't know." She said finally. "But I wouldn't have hurt the people I claimed to love."

"Do you think I claimed to love Robb?" Theon asked honestly curious to hear what she thought. He wasn't even sure how he would answer the question. It was true, Robb had been a brother to him. They had grown up together and the sheer proximity in age would make that so. But did he love him? And if he could have loved him how could he have hurt him in the way that he did.

"Didn't you?"

"Yes." He said. He was admitting it more to himself than to her. "But it all came back to who my father was. I was a ward, a prisoner in all but name. Sure I had some freedoms, I learned to fight, to ride horses, I could bed who I wanted to bed as long as they were of the small folk. But I could not leave Winterfell, not without your father's leave, nor your brother's after Lord Stark left Winterfell. I was never trusted."

"So when the first chance came to hurt us, you grabbed it." Arya said quietly.

"Yes." He admitted bitterly. "No." He changed his mind. "It wasn't like that, at least not exactly. I said before I wanted my father to help Robb. The Iron fleet could have made a difference. I went there ready to convince my father that Robb would give him the Iron Islands. That we could be free from the mainland. My father had different plans." And instantly his face twisted in a mocking look of his father, and his whisper changed to a harder tone to mimic his voice. "The Iron Born do not take what is given. We pay the Iron Price, we take what is ours."

"And you went along with him." She said.

"You make it seem like I had any sort of choice." Theon said. "Everything isn't so black an white."

"It is in my world." She muttered.

"It isn't in my world. I had a sister who had taken my place in my father's life, that of a first born son. She sneered at me, she made me feel less then a man, and she was not silent in her contempt. Her and my father made it plain that I needed to choose a side, and until I did, I didn't belong at Pyke. I wasn't welcome in a place that should have been considered my home." He was staring up again at the stars. "The worst part of it was, I didn't feel like I belonged at Robb's side either. I never belonged, not truly at Winterfell. I was always on the outside looking in everywhere I went. If you felt like that way what would you choose? The family who was forced to take you in as a punishment against your father, or the family you were tied to by blood."

Arya, despite herself she saw the shades of gray that Theon said he lived in daily, and suddenly she understood him a little better. In the faint starlight she hadn't taken her eyes off of him. She had wanted to see him as someone who was simple, that it really was back and white, that he was the bad guy. But there was so much more to him. If anything, this made her want to hate him even more, if only because he was making her see him as human, with all the faults that came with being one. Reluctantly she thought that maybe she saw some of herself in him. Damn him for making her feelings for him so damn complex.

Finally she said, not to hurt him, but to give him the clarity that he never seemed to have when he was making those crucial decisions. "Your place should have been with my brother. You should have died at his side."

He let out a bitter laugh. "You think I don't know that. I've told myself that every day since I fled Winterfell. But, after my father and sister left me to my fate, it was only then that I realized I was too stupid or blind by my anger and resentment to know that my real family had been the Starks or at least Robb. By then it was too late, I couldn't do anything to fix my mistakes."

"Am I your redemption, then?" She asked this carefully. "I don't want to be your redemption," she murmured as his silence followed. "I'm not Robb, I am not your family."

"I know." Was all that he said, and for some reason his acceptance of that simple fact made her relax. "You aren't my redemption, I've already figured that out. But I still feel compelled to keep an eye on you. You're all I have left of my life at Winterfell, of those days when I was too stupid to realize how happy I was. I grew up Arya, it wasn't easy, and I hurt so many people, but I've learned from my mistakes. You don't have to believe me, but I will help you find Bran and Rickon. And if you want, I'll find a way to help you get Winterfell back. Then maybe some of my debt will be paid. I know I can never make it up fully, but it's a burden I have to bare. Don't worry, I won't complain about it to you." He added in a lightened whispered tone.

The conversation had made them cross some sort of bridge in how their relationship would be. She let out a soft resigned sigh. "You know if betray me, I will kill you."

He didn't take it as an insult, only a promise and it was one he would see that she didn't have to keep. He let a small half smile touch his lips. It wouldn't have felt right to him if she didn't offer that ultimatum. With her last words, the conversation did seem to be done. They had both stopped talking, the both seemed to be lost in their own thoughts, studying the night sky again. Arya let out a rough yawn that was louder than she intended it to be. She was obviously more tired then she let on. This caught Theon's attention and once more his characteristic smirk splayed across his lips. "You're tired. Go to sleep."

"You don't need to tell me what to do." She said, but her heart wasn't truly into snapping at him. She was sleepy. She hated that she wasn't more annoyed with him when he chuckled at her.

"Good night, Lady Arya." And he said, with a hint of teasing in his tone.

"Good night," her tone was mocking, "my Prince." Apparently even in her friendlier mood towards him she could not resist one last dig at his expense.

He knew it was meant to hurt him, but at least she did not use the name Traitor for him.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note:** First and foremost I wan't to remind everyone that this story is a weird mash up of book and television show. I choose to put it in the Game of Thrones section rather than the Song of Ice and Fire section simply because I thought book readers might get mad at some of the show elements I put in the story. I'm not trying to mislead anyone. So I'm just putting it out there that my stories are usually a mix between show and book once more. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy!

 **Chapter 9**

The night passed without much incident. Arya and Theon slept and had a far better time of it than the men who had to sleep on the ground near the fire; their captors had to take turns keeping an eye on their charges and guarding the camp. Perhaps the only complaint that the two of them could have had was that the night had grown cold and the blankets they had been given weren't enough to keep the chill at bay. Although the two of them were not aware of this problem for long, in their sleep they had drifted closer to one another, each of them seeking out the warm body of the other.

It was Arya who first woke up to this new horror. She stirred because she was surprisingly warm. More than she would have thought she would be given they were sleeping outside. After all, the nights were chilly. She had yet to open her eyes, but in that muddled world between being asleep and being awake, she noticed that she was next to something that was soft, yet firm in that suggested she rested against something that lived. It was also comfortable, like she used to feel when she woke up next to Nymeria when she was a child. There was that smell, the one that made her think of home, that triggered an overwhelming feeling of homesickness. Where had this come from? It took only seconds for her to puzzle it out; she had fallen asleep next to Theon Greyjoy.

Finally her eyes shot open, she was completely awake now, but she remained still. She lay on her side, her body curled close to his, obviously attracted there by his warmth. She faced him, her head having somehow left her makeshift pillow to rest on the crook of his arm that had at some point in the middle of the night invaded her sleeping space. He lay on his back, his body obviously angled toward her, as if he too sought out more warmth than what the blankets provided. His other arm rested on his stomach. Slowly her gaze drifted up to his face. His eyes were still closed. The lines that his guilt etched upon his face were gone, erased by sleep. If she didn't know better he almost looked innocent; and for some strange reason she felt the urge to lift a hand and brush a stray strand of hair from his forehead. She didn't, mostly because it would have been a stupid thing to do. But her eyes stayed on his face as she contemplated how to get out of this very uncomfortable situation.

She honestly didn't know what she should do. If she pulled away suddenly from him, she might wake him, making them both feel embarrassment. At the same time she wanted nothing more than to pull away from him. She felt almost comfortable with him, and she shouldn't! He was a _traitor_. Why did she find herself having to remind herself of this?

A few seconds later, the dilemma of what she should do was taken from her, because without warning his eyes snapped open too. He looked startled to realize the she was staring at him, and that she was very much nestled close to him. It didn't take her long to react after that. She pulled herself up suddenly into a sitting position. "Seven Hells Theon get away from me." She snapped.

"It wasn't my fault," Without any thought he rolled his eyes at her. He sat up with a small groan, the arm that she had used as a pillow felt like pins and needles. He was about to tease her about the situation, but closed his mouth the moment he saw her face full of fury. There was a momentary flash of frustration and maybe even a little fear that he had lost any ground he had made with her, but then he felt his own anger seep in. Why should he be held accountable for something that happened while he slept? It wasn't as if she blameless either. "You were curled toward me, my lady." He spat, "and I wasn't the one who was using you as a pillow either," and to emphasize the point he started to try to rub the feeling back into his arm.

"Yes, well…" she seemed to have nothing to say to in her defense and that made it all the more difficult. "Well, I must have been cold." Then as an after thought, she blurted out. "I'm sorry."

Theon raised an eyebrow at her. He could tell that she hadn't really meant the words; but it was just so… it was just so Arya. Then much to her horror, he laughed. It was then that Haren appeared at the lip of the wagon. He had a wide smile on his face from hearing Theon's laughter. "Well it seems you two had a decent night's sleep after all."

Arya just glowered at him, then pointedly gave her attention to Mouser who had returned to the wagon sometime in the middle of the night; and was now slinking out of her hiding place where she must have slept. The cat climbed onto Arya's lap and promptly started grooming herself, paying no attention to the other humans.

Haren chuckled again and then shrugged his shoulders. "It's good that you're up. I'm here to undo the chains so you can relieve yourself, and then we'll be on our way. We'll be breaking our fast on the road again." He continued to chatter as he went about his work. He led them to the creek so they could wash their hands and face and to take care of any other personal matters. It was all done efficiently and quickly. In no time they were packed away into the wagon and they continued on their way.

At first Arya was a little frustrated that their captors had not let down their guard. She made a face when the schackle was once again around her ankle and rattled it louder than necessary, hoping the men would know just how annoyed she was. Over the course of the next few hours, she grew more and more sullen. The fresh air, the food and the minimal amount of walking she had been allowed during stops seemed to be brining her health back. This morning she did not have her tiredness and headaches to distract her as much as they did the day before. And as her health grew so did her petulance.

Unfotunatly for Theon, the only person she could really take it out on was was him, he was her constant companion after all. He took it all in stride. Strangely he realized, that he understood Arya on some level. Being with her again opened his eyes to certain similarities they had, even when they were children. They were both placed in positions they so desperately wanted to break out of. She would never grow into that noble lady her parents and everyone else expected her to be. And he would never be never be the son his father longed for, nor would he ever be a part of the family he longed for. So, he let her take out her frustrations on him, it was the least he could do for her. He also felt certain that for once, these frustrations had nothing to do with him personally, only their situation.

By that same afternoon, it seemed as if everyone was annoyed, even their captors were cantankerous. They had stopped for lunch several hours before, and this time had only been allowed unchained for a few minutes. Arya's body was aching from the lack of movement, and to ease her annoyance she snapped at Theon every chance she could. Even Mouser had hidden herself away again, knowing that if she set Arya's nerves off she would be yelled at as well. Eventually Theon ignored her, thus why she was growing more and more sulky.

Arya gave a sideways glance toward Theon, he was leaning against the wall of the wagon his arms crossed, is eyes closed and his legs stretched out in front of him, looking perfectly at ease. She frowned, wondering how he could look so relaxed. Arya herself couldn't find a comfortable way to sit. At the moment her knees were drawn up to her chin and her arms wrapped around her legs. There was now an annoying pain in her back and she knew she must adjust once more to make herself comfortable Arya stretched her legs out before her on the hard planks of the wagon and reached her hands above her in almost feline grace to stretch out her body. She let out a loud yawn just to hear some other sound besides the clank of the wagon, the silence was weighing on her nerves. She knew that was her fault, she was being obstinate with Theon. He was the only one she had to talk to, and despite their sort of breakthrough the night before, she still on some level resented him. But he was at least another human. So she let the toe of her scuffed boot nudge against his leg to get his attention.

He opened one eye to look at her; and when she saw she had his attention, she leaned her head back against the wall of the wagon. Her grey eyes gave him an appraising look as if she was still trying to figure him out. Which in all honesty was what she was trying to do. "I have a question, my Prince."

The smile that she had grown up with had found it's way once more to his lips. It was the sarcastic one that he aways wore, only now it was the one she realized that always hid his true feelings. It was strange that she no longer thought that smile made him look callow and cruel. Now that she understood him better, she understood that maybe he had been a scared, little boy when he was at Winterfell. And maybe now he wore that smile because he was a little afraid of what it was she might ask. It gave her some satisfaction to realize that he was a little scared of her.

"And what would that question be, Lady Arya?" He asked. He knew the name bothered her, and for some reason he just couldn't bring himself to stop calling her that. Espeically since she didn't seem to be letting up on the whole 'Prince' title.

"Why Winterfell? It didn't make sense for you to take it. I've been thinking it over since we talked last night. You didn't have the man power and it was too far inland for it to be any good to your father." She paused a moment, "I could see why you might take it if you hated us, if you wanted to get back at us for everything that you say you suffered in the past. But you told me you didn't. So why did you feel the need to take it from us?"

He didn't say anything for a few moments. He just looked at her, surprised that she was willing to talk to him about this right now, in the light of day and not in the intimate setting they had last night. Most of all, he had to give the question some thought. He had only an inkling of an idea as to why he did it. And he had a feeling it went a lot more then the shallow reasons he had when he had first told his men why he was going to march them there. He was silent so long that Arya wasn't sure he was going to answer.

As he thought about whatever he was going to say or if he even was going to respond she studied him. Once that mask of his smile slipped from his face, she realized he wasn't going to hide his emotions from her. Perhaps he had realized the time for hiding was past, at least with her. In his eyes she saw the conflict that he felt, but there was pain and anger too. She felt the stirrings of pity enter her thoughts, much to her annoyance. If he chose not to talk to her about it now, she wouldn't push him. Still, she wanted to know, what exactly it was that forced him to take action against her family. She knew the process of him telling it to her completely might take a little time. She knew that last night was only a start.

And just when she was about to give up, he spoke. "At first, the idea started because my father gave me some petty raiding jobs to do. I had to go up and down the North sacking weak fishing villages." He looked up at her and saw the self righteous annoyed look on her face. "Yes," he said before she could accuse him of being the gutless jelly fish that he was, "I know, I know it was wrong, those were your father's people. I get that Arya. I'm not going to give you any excuses, but I am going to give you the truth. At this point in my story the truth is that I was a selfish, egotistical prick who had problems with his father, not to mention a huge identity crisis, but I'll get to that in a moment."

He paused, waited to see if she was going to say anything and when she didn't he continued. "As I told you last night, my sister had taken my place in my father's eyes, I was the one son who remained alive, but I wasn't wanted. Not after the wolves seemingly defiled me. Well, anyway, he gave her the more important jobs. She got to take Deep Wood Motte."

Arya rolled her eyes. "Yes, I'm sure it was extremely easy for her, since Lord Glover had marched with my brother." She said.

Theon actually seemed to appreciate the thought, even though she hadn't meant to ease his troubled mind, he let a brief smile touch his lips. "Aye, easy it may have been, but she had a castle and I had shit. As you wolves say, Winter is Coming and the looting was scarce, especially in poor villages. My men were eager to do something worth while. And I was too. I wanted to prove myself to my father. I wanted to prove to him that I was a true Greyjoy. That meant that I had to bring him something bigger than Deep Wood Motte, bigger than anything that Yara could have brought to him."

"And Winterfell called for you." Arya said bitterly. "Of course it did, it was your home."

"I didn't realize it then, Arya." There was remorse in his voice, but he knew that Arya didn't care, nor should she. "Or if I did I hid it away from myself. But it my ignorance, back then, it was only stone and wood. It was, also, the castle of a man my father hated, the man who had taken his only surviving son."

Arya reluctantly nodded her head. Almost against her will, she could understand this part pretty well. "And if you took it, maybe he would see that the place had no true power over you. That we had no true power over you."

Theon nodded his head slowly, his eyes downcast. "But it did." Theon said quietly. "Bran was in charge at that time. I knew it would be easy to manipulate a child into handing Winterfell to me. And it was. He cared about your people so much that he didn't want to see any of them die. So, I had all the power. And the men I commanded were happy and they didn't look at me like I was weak. We had taken Winterfell far too easily. But Winterfell still had power over me." He let out a painful sigh. "I hardly spilt any blood myself, but I've told you that I killed Ser Rodrik. I told myself I was punishing him for talking back to me." He let out a self deprecating laugh, "and I did it with my own two hands because Lord Eddard Stark taught me that the man who gives the punishment should also be the one to swing the sword. But I did for all the wrong reasons. I could say I did it because he embarrassed me in front of my men, or that I needed to make a lesson of him, to make all the other servants and people at Winterfell to listen to me; but even at that time, when all of this was still new, I think deep down I knew that what I was doing was wrong. The truth was that Ser Rodrik voiced out loud everything I really was, a coward and a traitor. So I took the easy way out. I lied to myself and said it was honor."

"You're honor is shit, Theon Greyjoy." Arya said. Her tone wasn't harsh. It was almost gentle, the way she said it. Surprisingly there was no anger in her heart at the moment, only a deep aching hole where all the pieces of here former life had once belonged.

He let out a bitter chuckle. "Don't you think I know that?" He said sardonically. "It always has been. I don't lie to myself anymore. After what happened at Winterfell, after I realized what my actions really cost your family, I try to be very honest with myself. His tone was no longer remorseful, it was hateful and all of that hate and loathing were directed at himself. "Which is why I can now admit the real reason I went after Winterfell." He paused here for a moment, taking a deep breath, wondering if he should admit it out loud.

"My whole life, all I ever wanted was to be one of you." He said bitterly. "I wanted to be a Stark. And deep down I knew that could never happen. Your father would never see me as a son. Gods, I think that's why I had so much animosity toward's Jon. He at least had your father's blood running through his veins. I had nothing. I was always on the outside looking in. I was never a part of you, and I was never a part of the Greyjoy's I was everybody's afterthought."

Arya blinked at the revelation. "So you thought that if you took Winterfell, maybe it would be enough. That maybe you really could belong there if you became, it's Prince."

"Yes, I know just how pathetic that makes me sound," he said.

And just like that, Arya realized she really did understand him. She had always felt out of place. Being with her mother and Sansa was never easy, they always expected something more from her and sometimes she even felt that from her father. In King's Landing it was worse. The court expected so much more from her in terms of manners and etiquette. Everyone seemed looked down on her. And after her father died, well that was even worse. She couldn't even be Arya anymore, she had to choose different names for evey different role she had to play. Then, when she made it all the way to Braavos, she even tried to give up herself completely. So she understood that it was possible that Theon didn't know where he belonged.

"Stupid, incredibly dumb, but not pathetic." It was all she could offer him in terms of comfort. She wasn't yet ready to commit to the fact that she had anything in common with Theon Greyjoy, but another brick in the wall that separated them had broken off. Arya never felt that she was the forgiving type, but it wasn't impossible, she had come to forgive Sandor Clegane, and now she felt that maybe Theon wasn't as bad as everyone in the Seven Kingdoms made him out to be. In fact he had admitted that he hadn't killed her brothers, nor had he made Winterfell a pile a rubble. Of course he had made mistakes. Theon had killed some of her father's men and it was difficult to forget that he had killed two innocent boys to hide the mistake of letting her brothers escape. But then, the Hound had killed Micah. Perhaps her world was full of those shades of gray after all.

"Well, I think I'm pathetic, even if you don't, and I am stupid." He let out a snort of laughter. "I have a few other words I could use to describe myself, but I'm trying to make myself better. Some people would call that growth. I guess we all have to grow up at sometime. It just took me a little longer and it cost me a hell of a lot more than most people. And I know it cost you too."

Arya looked at her hands, unsure of what to say as a lump formed in her throat. He was not wrong, he had cost her a lot. Finally she shook her head as if to say she wasn't going to think about that now. Instead she asked another question that had been on her mind. "And Winterfell? What do you think happened to it after you escaped?"

"I can't really tell you, because I only found out what happened through rumors of which I heard at White Harbor before I left. I know that it was burned. Everyone believed that I did it, but I didn't. I left before the fighting even started. I knew we were outnumbered and I knew the Northmen would not be forgiving of what I did and what they think I did to your brothers." He paused here, thinking about the two innocent boys he had slaughtered, it was something he was not yet ready to talk about. It was a layer of guilt he wasn't sure that would ever leave him.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want." Arya said quietly when she thought he wasn't going to talk anymore.

"It's best if I go on, at least for a little while." His thoughts seemed distant, as if they weren't there in the wagon with her. "Your Maester Luwin talked me into leaving. My sister had already come and gone by that time, only to tell me that she wouldn't be helping me keep Winterfell. The men who laid siege to Winterfell kept blaring this bloody horn so loud and so often that I couldn't think straight. I was scared shitless. Maester Lewin read me like a book. I don't know why, but he was kind to me that night I left. He might have been feeling nostalgic for the boy I had been in the past, not the monster that I had become. He said I should go to the Wall, that all men were given a new chance at life. That I could try to maybe regain my lost honer." He let out a bitter laugh, "as if I had started out with any honor to begin with. But I couldn't go. Not there, I couldn't face Jon, could I?"

It was a question he didn't expect her to answer, seven hells he wasn't even aware that he was talking to her, he was lost in his miserable past now and he continued to ramble. "The Maester showed me the tunnels that would lead me out of Winterfell, away from the siege army and the men who wanted to kill me. I, of course, had to leave my men behind. But that was okay, I had an inkling they were ready to betray me anyway."

Arya could see him visibly wince at the last comment. Then he shook his head and said, "no that's not right. I didn't know that for sure. It was something that I told myself to make me feel better as I walked away from them. They might have, Luwin seemed to think it was a good possibility. Letters of pardon had been flung across the walls stating that if they turned me over, they could go back home, safe and sound. So it was a possibility, but I didn't know for sure. I later heard that all the Iron Born were slaughtered. I live and they died."

"Same as Robb," whispered Arya, loud enough that he could here, and she could tell the words cut him like a knife. She wasn't saying them to hurt him, she was saying them because they were true. The truth in them hurt him, at least he could admit to that.

"Same as Robb." He whispered back. "So there are several people in this world who should be alive instead of me. My father would tell you he wished me in the grave and that my brothers had lived, all the families of the men that I had slaughtered wish I was dead instead of their husbands, fathers, brothers, sons whatever. And you Arya, I know you wish I was dead, instead of Robb. Gods, I wish I was dead instead of Robb."

"But you aren't." Arya said plainly.

"No, I'm not." It was all he could say.

The air around them seemed heavy, almost oppressive. Arya did not know what to say to him. She thought he needed forgiveness, but she was not quite ready to give him that, even though in the deepest part of he heart she knew she was close to giving it to him. But she wasn't so sure that he needed _her_ forgiveness. She realized that he needed to forgive himself, and she knew that he couldn't give it to himself, not yet. So instead she tried to lighten the mood, by changing the topic.

"I always thought Mother would have rather I had never been born. She always did like Sansa better." It was odd to bring up, but Theon had been lamenting the fact that his father had wished for his two dead sons than for the one that was still living.

It didn't make Theon feel better in the least, but he recognized the fact that Arya was trying in her own awkward way to make him feel better. So he forced out a chuckle. "I doubt that, Lady Arya. I think you just frustrated her."

"Oh, I know I frustrated her." She shrugged her shoulders, "but now that I think about it, I don't think she hated me. She loved me."

"She just didn't know how to handle you." Theon finished for her.

Ayra nodded her head, she had already came to that conclusion. She offered him an odd comfort then, "maybe my father didn't know how to handle you either. You weren't his son, but you were his responsibility. Maybe he just didn't know how to treat you. Don't get me wrong, it doesn't excuse you for what you did. You owe a lot of people for that, and I still have have moments where I can't stand to look at you." Her flippant tone made her words more bearable. "But, what I'm trying to say, is that, perhaps I understand a bit from where you're coming from."

He raised an eyebrow at this, he had made more progress with her than he thought. Then with a bit of a smirk, he matched her tone. "Well, that must have been hard to admit, the great Lord Eddard Stark having faults."

She frowned a little at this, but it was something that she and been forced to admit some time ago. "My father was great, my _Prince_ , don't ever forget that," her tone portrayed a haughtiness that he had only ever seen in Sansa and for the first time he could see how they were sisters. But just a suddenly as it was there, it disappeared. "But he wasn't perfect. Nobody is. He made mistakes, mistakes upon mistakes, but that doesn't take away from his greatness."

"I never said it did." Theon said quietly. He was perfectly aware of Eddard's greatness. There was a time when he had strived to be as honorable as Eddard Stark. It always seemed a monumental feat. One that even Robb Stark could not rise to. As he sat here now thinking about it, he doubted anyone could, not even Eddard himself.

From his tone of voice, Arya could tell that he was not mocking her, nor her father. Perhaps there was some hope left for Theon Greyjoy, maybe that meant that there was some hope for her too. Growing up the name Stark seemed synonymous with _honor_. She would never be that great, but she could be better. Maybe she wouldn't be so broken anymore, just maybe Theon wouldn't be either.

Their conversation dwindled as the afternoon sun started to fade. They knew that at any moment the wagon would come to a stop, they would be let out to take care of some personal things and they would be fed. Then after that it would be time to sleep, the arrangements being the same as the night before.

When the time came for them to be 'put to bed,' Arya felt strangely lighter and was able to fall asleep quickly. Theon too, fell asleep almost as quick as she had. It was the first night in a long time where he didn't have nightmares of the men who ha died because of him. When he woke up the next morning he wondered how long that would last. Because if he searched the depths of his heart, he realized he was still holding on to his guilt. For some reason, it just became a little more bearable.

—

Over the next few days, things started to of blur into a sameness that was rather dull. The monotony not only affected Arya and Theon, but their captors as well. The men seemed to become lax in their duties, and strangely enough Arya nor Theon made no attempt at escape. That wasn't to say neither of them hadn't thought about it. It just seemed more prudent to wait until they reached their destination, which would hopefully be in a larger city than any of the small towns they had traveled through thus far.

While they traveled, Theon had come to observe a few things about Arya Stark. She talked to him more freely, of course not about anything deep since those first few conversations but they did talk, and sometimes, they even joked with each other. At first they talked about their shared childhood, which was difficult, but also cathartic at the same time. In some small ways it helped him to understand why he had done what he did. He still hadn't forgiven himself, but he could understand. And they talked about the people they missed. Robb was always at the tip of his tongue and Jon at hers. But she also talked of her younger brothers and her father and mother and on occasion Sansa. At times the guilt would become too great for him and he said he was sorry. Whenever he got that melancholy she silenced him with a look that said she didn't want to hear it. Then, sometimes he wondered if she maybe had a few things she needed to get off her chest too. He recognized some of the groans she made while she slept. He imagined that he made some of those same noises when his nightmares surfaced. Just how much of her innocence was stolen from her when she left Winterfell so long ago. One day he would ask her about it.

That day came sooner than Theon imagined.

It was a day when things seemed especially dull. But it also held a promise, on that afternoon when Haren allowed them off the wagon, he said, "We'll be there by tomorrow afternoon, I'm sure of it, and then I'm sure all your questions will be answered."

Since the first day of this journey Arya head not given up on asking their captors two questions. And Arya had taken this particular moment to go ahead and interrogate. "Who are we going to meet tomorrow?" When Haren didn't answer she asked a different question, "do you know why he hired you?" Theon couldn't exactly blame her. Any information they could have on the man that had them taken could only help them. However the men were very tightlipped.

Haren to deflect her questions when Sallan grumbled out, "give it a rest girl. You'll get your answers tomorrow. Now come on, stretch your legs a bit while I get you some food." Arya jumped off the wagon, to follow him, who it seemed was about to go make a fire.

It was the same story every time they stopped. Theon also hopped out of the wagon, taking a moment to stretch his legs. Gyllan was seated not far off from where Theon stood, keeping a close eye on Theon. He offered the man a small smile, then looked to where Arya questioned the leader. He wondered if the reason Arya kept up the constant questioning was just to annoy the man. It was something that he had known about her before, and was reminded of it again. She had an odd habit of getting under people's skins, himself included, and she thoroughly enjoyed it. He watched carefully as she made her way back to the where he stood beside the back of the wagon. With a grace and strength that she had recovered over the past few days, she climbed back on the wagon and sat with her legs dangling over the edge.

She let out a long exaggerated sigh, "they still won't tell us anything."

"After so many days you expected different?" He asked her with an indifferent shrug.

"No, of course I didn't. But I was hoping for something to break up the monotony. If you haven't noticed the days have been a bit dull."

"Well," Theon offered in what he hoped was a comforting tone, "I'm sure we'll have a more interesting day tomorrow."

"That's true," she said, paused a moment then looked at him thoughtfully. Then in a whisper asked, "You don't suppose it wouldn't be a bad idea to try and escape right now? If we're so close, we could probably make it on foot."

"Before these men caught up to us?" Theon asked smugly, "Just have patience my Lady, we don't even know where it is we're going." He hefted himself back on the wagon and sat down next to her.

Arya shrugged. "I have a good idea as to where it is we're going."

Theon canted his head to look at her. "Oh? And how did you figure that out?"

"We're going to Pentos. It's the only place that makes sense. We've been traveling South and it's the only city of importance that we could get to within the time we've been traveling." She said as if it should have been obvious to him.

"What if we're not going to a city?" He asked casually.

"I could be wrong." She admitted, "but these men work for someone, and that someone I'm sure has a lot of money. These men are being paid, and from listening to them talk, I get the impression they are being paid a lot to bring us safely to our destination. There are a lot of rich people in Pentos."

Theon nodded his head, he supposed there was a certain amount of logic to that assumption. "Pentos is a port city, if we could manage to escape, it would be easy to find a ship to Westeros." Then he let his brow furrow a bit. "But I still think it would be best to wait." He nodded to the man who was several feet away, but still watching them carefully. "They keep too close an eye on us still. They still have our weapons, and Gyllan doesn't let that particular bag out of his reach. They would have horses, we would be on foot."

"Fine," she snapped in a way that showed him she was very frustrated, but she saw the valid points in his argument.

"Besides aren't you even a little curious about who it is that has gone to so much trouble to kidnap us?" He asked with a shrug.

"No." She said firmly. "My only goal is to get away and get back to Westeros, and find my brothers," then almost as an afterthought added, "and Sansa too. This person who wants us so badly, well I doubt he has our best interests at heart, best not to think about him at all. As soon as we reach Pentos, we need to keep our eyes open for a chance to slip away."

"Okay," he muttered. "We're going to need to come up with a plan that's better than 'keeping our eyes open.'"

"Then I guess we'll both to start thinking of one." She said with only a hint of annoyance.

"As my Lady commands." He said with a frown. How could she think it was going to be so easy? The two of them drifted into silence. Both of them trying to come up with a feasible plan of escape. They were lost in their thoughts for several minutes when Theon's thoughts drifted back to the girl who sat beside him. That seemed to happen a lot. He supposed it was because they were always together, and he felt responsible for her on some level. He knew he should be thinking of escape, but his mind was a blank when it came to that, and he found himself just so damn curious about her. She had told him very little of her time in Braavos, but she had carefully avoided talking about what happened before that.

He looked over to Gyllan and saw that his attention was on cleaning his weapons, but every once in awhile he would cast a causal glance over to the two of them. When Theon spoke again he kept his voice low. "Can I ask you a question, my Lady?" He always added a my lady when ever he got a chance, it got to be a habit over the past few days. It had started out as a way to subtly annoy her, watching her reaction was part of it's charm. And she of course did the same to him.

"I don't know my Prince," over the last day or so, the sting had died out of tone, but she never called him that whenever anyone else was near, and he never called her my lady unless it was just the two of them. It seemed odd should anyone else hear them hold on to their old titles. She looked at him appraisingly, wondering what it is he wanted to know and what it was that made him so hesitant to ask. "I cannot promise you I'll answer it, or even if I would be honest if I did."

Theon could tell she was attempting to keep the tone light. Ever since the last serious conversation they had, she worked hard at keeping things lighter. She was uncomfortable knowing such intimate details about what went on in his mind and he had a feeling she would be even more uncomfortable if he knew more about hers. She also must have realized that he would start asking her more intimate questions as the time they shared together wore on and the flicker in her eyes made him realize that she was scared to be put in that situation right now. He knew that he had tread lightly, or she might pull away from him.

He started easy, and she would offer him whatever she wanted, and he wouldn't push. It was something he had been wondering about since they had been in Braavos. So he fixed her with his ever ready grin and leaned over to take a stray strand of her brown hair between his fingers. He gave it a gentle tug. "Your hair is shorter than when you left Winterfell. I couldn't tell when I first approached you in Braavos, you had them up in those tiny odd twists. But now that you've kept your hair down, I've noticed the change. Was it something the House of Black and White made you do?"

At first there was a hint of a shadow that passed across her eyes and for a moment Theon thought that he had lost her. But she pulled her eyes away from him and looked at the two men by the fire warming up their lunch. "There's not really much of a reason, simple practicality." She stayed quiet for a moment, and Theon chose not to push, if she wanted to explain more, she would. "It was easier to hide if I looked like a boy. They were looking for Arya Stark, not some dirty, little gutter rat."

"You cut it after you escaped the Red Keep then." He stated, guessing that that was where the story started.

"Yes, but not right after. For a few days I had to try and survive on my own in King's Landing. It wasn't hard, not really. I was already dressed like a boy," she smiled a little as if she were remembering something fondly. "I was out of dresses as soon as we were out of sight of Winterfell. Mother would have been so angry with me."

Theon let her lose herself in memories. While she was silent he studied her profile carefully. He watched as her eyes darted down to her hands that were fidgeting in her lap. There seemed to be an air of nervousness that surrounded her. He frowned a little, knowing that he had brought this agitation upon her. In one swift movement, without any thought, he reached out for one of her hands, lacing their fingers together; and then gave it a small squeeze. It was a silent way to tell her that she had nothing to be nervous about. The physical contact seemed to have pulled her out of her memories and her body instantly went rigid. But somehow her hand tightened around his. With that pressure he seemed to fully realize what it was that he had done and he looked down horrified at the intertwined hands. He seemed to be paralyzed. He had no idea what to do, and apparently neither did she. They didn't let go, and after a few awkward seconds, Arya's body surprisingly, relaxed, but her hard grip remaind, even as he loosened his. Instead she just rested their hands on her thigh, choosing not to verbally acknowledge the physical contact at all.

Her voice had become a horse whisper now, and she attributed her quickened heartbeat to the awful memories that had flooded her mind. Oddly the warm hand that held hers was some comfort, she reassured herself that it could have been anyone holding her hand at that moment and she would have felt the same relief. Because now that she had thought of that day, the day her father died, she felt that she needed to tell someone about it. And Theon was here.

"I was there, in the crowd that day, the day Joffery killed my father." She said to him.

He was still looking doubtfully at their entwined hands. But when she spoke his head snapped up to look at her. "Seven Hells Arya." He whispered.

"I didn't see it." She said quietly. "Yoren, he was from the Night's Watch, he found me before it actually happened."

Theon vaguely remembered a Yoren who had come to Winterfell months before Robb had decided to go to war. He was a smelly, old drunk and was surprised he showed up in Arya's story. But he said nothing, he simply sat there, holding Arya Stark's hand, waiting for her to continue with a story that was so obviously painful for her.

"But I heard everything. Sansa was screaming, and then she suddenly stopped, at first I thought they might have killed her too. But eventually I realized that if they had the crowd would have reacted to that, now I think she probably fainted, you know how Sansa is. Yoren saved me from seeing my father die, but…but I imagined it plenty of times. I can't imagine what Sansa went through that day." She shook her head and Theon realized it was her trying to get the thoughts out of her head, to keep her from crying. She still had to be that brave, little girl. She would never let her guard down enough to let him see her completely vulnerable. He doubted she ever would, it was even a miracle she had let him see her this vulnerable. "Anyway, Yoren took me aside and took his knife out and hacked my hair and called me Arry."

"You got out of King's Landing that way then?" He asked in a whisper, thinking that if he talked louder he might spook her.

In answer she just nodded her head, "he was going to take me to Winterfell. I guess if I really think about it, I should be grateful that he never got the chance." She said giving him a thoughtful glance.

And just like that the apology was almost upon his lips and she seemed to know it. She shook her head, she did not need to hear his apology. "Words are air Theon." She was gentle when she slipped her hand form his. "What would you have done to me if I had been there, I wonder." She said quietly, and it wasn't anger he heard in her voice, it was hurt.

"I wouldn't have hurt you, I didn't hurt your brothers, I…"

"We both know I would have made your life miserable, I would have talked back, I would have been difficult."

"Like Ser Rodrik," he was ashamed and his tone betrayed that.

Perhaps that was why she didn't sound angry or hurtful. "Like Ser Rodrik."

"I wouldn't have killed you." He said this more to himself then to her, like he had to convince himself of the answer. And deep down he knew he would have been smart enough not to kill her. She would have been far too valuable, but he couldn't honestly say that he would not have hurt her."

She saw the conflict in his eyes, and realized he was once more beating himself up. He always seemed harder on himself then she was on him. And for the first time she didn't think he was being fair. He was condemning himself for crimes he hadn't committed. He had enough to be guilty about without adding anything more. She offered him what little comfort she could, "We'll never know what might have been Theon. It's no use thinking about that. And it seems that maybe with all your stupid mistakes, you might be learning something."

There was no more that could be said, as their captors bid them to come eat some lunch. She offered him a grim smile then jumped up and walked towards the fire. Theon realized that he wanted to talk to her, he needed to say something to her, but it was too late. And he wasn't even sure of what it was that he wanted to say, so instead he just followed after her. For now these thoughts were too heavy, and he had said he would begin to plan and prepare himself for an escape attempt by the time they reached Pentos, and that might be as early as the next day. He would put his guilt aside for the next few days.


End file.
